


We Had Found the Stars

by gobstoneswithhector



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Albus Has a Lot of Angst, Both Are Oblivious but Very Sweet, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter Next Generation, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, M/M, POV Albus Severus Potter, Scorpius Is Very Cute, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2019-09-13 23:45:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16902054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gobstoneswithhector/pseuds/gobstoneswithhector
Summary: Albus is just trying to get through his fifth and sixth years without imploding from the growing feelings he has toward his best friend.





	1. Chapter One

He was late. It was a quarter to eleven o’clock and I still hadn’t boarded the Hogwarts Express because my best friend had yet to arrive at Platform 9 ¾. The crowd, which was noisy and bustling when we first arrived, had started to disperse as children hopped into the train’s cars and waved goodbye to their parents. I was standing with my own family and looking around, impatient and annoyed. 

I had woken up that morning with knots in my stomach so severe that even my dad’s blueberry pancakes with sugar-free syrup couldn’t untangle them. Every year since I was eleven years old, I dreaded the first of September and boarding the train that would take me to school. This year was no different. It may have been worse, actually, since I was entering my fifth year, which means O.W.L.s: the end-of-the-year comprehensive exams that determined if you were a witch or wizard worthy of practicing advanced magic or a troll destined to forever grunt under a bridge. I was sure I’d be deemed a troll before the exams took place. 

Returning to school always left me with a sense of impending doom. For one, I wasn’t very good with most spellwork. I tended to light things on fire or cause serious bodily injury to myself or my classmates. For another, I wasn’t liked. My professors didn’t seem to like me, my classmates made fun of me, and, worse still, my family merely tolerated me. I was, for lack of a better word, a loser. The only thing that made going back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the Slytherin dormitory worth it was one person: my best friend, Scorpius Malfoy. 

And he was late. 

I hadn’t seen Scorpius since June when we returned to King’s Cross Station after school ended. All summer, our parents seemed to be determined to keep us apart, likely because we got into just a touch of trouble the year before when we may have went back in time on more than one occasion. 

We managed to stay in contact the past few months, though, which kept me sane. We’d exchange letters weekly using my family’s owl. Some I had read over so much that I memorized them. 

_Albus,_

__

_I’ve reorganized the library three times now. First, alphabetically, as that makes the most sense. Then, by color, as I thought it looked pretty. Last, I just turned all the books around so I couldn’t see the spines (I thought that would make picking a book more interesting), but now I don’t have the energy to put them all right again. Dad’s pretty annoyed, but I told him, ‘What am I supposed to do? You don’t let me outside the gates unless we’re traveling.’ He suggested that I fly around the grounds. I told him that I’d rather fly to see you. He told me he’d take my broom away._

_I miss you._

_Love,_  
_Scorpius_

 

_Scorpius,_

_I’ve had no luck convincing Dad to let me visit you or invite you over to our house. He keeps going on about ‘family time’ and keeps promising to take us all on holiday somewhere. We haven’t gone anywhere. I know he’s still punishing me for last year’s, um, adventure. He says he isn’t, but he is. I wonder if McGonagall will remember that we still have detention until Halloween._

_Keep my owl a night, would you? He’s looking a bit worn out from all the flying._

_Albus_

 

_Albus,_

_I doubt the Headmistress is going to forget that we nearly permanently altered the universe as we know it by traversing timelines and will keep her promise of a school year’s worth of detentions for our ‘adventure.’ At least it’s only Friday evenings. We never did anything anyway, and I’ve become quite good at cleaning trophy cases, floors, and bathrooms without magic. And at least we get to serve our detentions together._

_I’m sending you chocolates I got in Germany._

_I miss you, and I can’t wait to see you._

_Love,_  
_Scorpius_

 

_Scorpius,_

_We did tons of stuff on Fridays. We played Exploding Snap, fantasized about Polly Chapman getting her head squeezed off by the Giant Squid, griped about our dads… And good on you for considering scrubbing floors and toilets a learning opportunity. I’ve learned to question the hygiene of our classmates._

_I won’t write for a while. We actually are going on holiday. Hooray._

_Albus_

 

_Albus,_

_I know it’s been only two weeks since you went on holiday and that you’re probably just getting back, and there’s only two more weeks until September 1st, but could you please, please, please see if we can get together at Diagon Alley? I still need to buy my things and I doubt you’ve bought yours, being on holiday and all, and I was thinking maybe we could try to meet up?_

_I miss you, I can’t wait to see you, and I hope you write me soon._

_Love,_  
_Scorpius_

 

_Scorpius,_

_Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron picked up our school things when we were on holiday and they were in Diagon Alley last week. I’m sorry._

_See you soon._

_Albus_

I was teased mercilessly by James each time I received a letter. James would always try to grab it or read over my shoulder, but I was very quick and always managed to prevent that from happening. I’d dash up the stairs, lock my door, and read my letter under my bed covers. I would then hastily write a reply before James could barge in and tease me. 

Scorpius was right to think that McGonagall would keep her promise of a year’s worth of detentions. This summer had been the only break from our weekly detentions, and I was glad for it. The days after Halloween last year were some of the hardest yet. After watching Voldemort kill my grandparents, I couldn’t look anyone in the eye, especially my dad. We tried to patch things up and have honest conversations, but it was hard. 

Hogwarts had a ceremony honoring Craig Bowker, Jr. Delphi had murdered him while Scorpius and I watched. Throughout November and December I was a mess. I had competing feelings of anger, sadness, guilt, and resentment. I hardly ate and spent most of time in the Slytherin dungeon or serving my detentions. At night, I would toss and turn and wake frequently from nightmares, which usually featured Scorpius suffering the Cruciatus curse or Craig’s body falling limply to the ground. 

I knew Scorpius wasn’t doing much better. The rumors about him being the son of Voldemort had mostly fizzled out, but the bullying hadn’t stopped. If anything, it got worse. People blamed us for Craig’s death, lied about us trying to align ourselves with Delphi and dark wizards, and overall made us feel unwanted. When I was awake at night in my bed I could hear Scorpius awake, too, either rustling around or sniffling. He confided in me that his nightmares consisted of him waking up in the alternate reality where Voldemort and Delphi were at the height of their power and I didn’t exist. 

Delphi had never reached such power and instead had a trial around Christmas and was sentenced to life in Azkaban. When we returned to school after Christmas holiday, things were a little quieter. Our classmates still didn’t want much to do with us, but the teasing and maliciousness seemed to be less frequent. Scorpius and I managed, because we at least had each other. 

We’d grown closer, if possible. More than once we had stayed up all night in one of our beds, sitting silently while we read or ate sweets, unable to sleep. I was trying really hard to be a better friend. Scorpius didn’t have to try too hard; he was always a good friend. 

And he was late. 

“You know you can just meet him on the train?” I heard my brother, James, say as he pushed his trolley past me. I ignored him and looked out at the remaining people on the platform. 

It was a bit easier to scan the people walking around since I’d grown quite a lot since last year. I was still skinny and my rebellious hair was as black as ever, which normally wouldn’t be a bad thing except that my black hair paired with my green eyes made me look almost identical to my dad, Harry Potter. Thank Merlin I didn’t wear glasses or have a lightning bolt scar. Instead, I had way too many freckles and a lot to live up to. 

I looked like my dad as much as Scorpius looked like his. Scorpius was pale and blond just like his father, Draco Malfoy. Even their eyes were the same cool shade of grey. They differed only in their mannerisms. Whereas Draco carried himself almost haughtily and never missed an opportunity to sneer at people he didn’t like, Scorpius had a more nervous disposition and spent his time trying to be as friendly as possible. A lot of people thought Scorpius, with his awkward enthusiasm over books and reliance on self-deprecating humor, was weird. I didn’t think he was weird. I did think he was a right geek, but he was also wonderful. 

And he was late. 

I gave an audible sigh and began pushing my trolley toward the train. My sister, Lily, was behind me, her own trolley rattling along and her cat hissing from its cage. James had already bounded into a car and was probably meeting his friends in one of the compartments. 

I felt my dad put his hand on my shoulder. “Are you ready?” he asked. 

“I suppose.”

“Have a good term, dear,” my mum said. She ran her fingers through my hair and then kissed my cheek. “Please don’t try anything illegal or dangerous.”

“I’ll try my best,” I said, hugging her. 

“And don’t worry,” she said. “He’ll turn up.”

“Write us if you need anything,” my dad said. “We’re just one owl away.”

“Let’s go, Al,” Lily said. She was tugging on my arm and pointing to a clock on one of the platform’s arches. It was five ‘til eleven o’clock. We bid goodbye to our parents and pushed our trolleys toward the train. I heaved our trunks into a storage compartment, handed Lily the cage with her cat, and then we hopped off the platform and onto the Hogwarts Express. 

We made it halfway down the train’s corridor before Lily found her fellow third-year friends and left me to walk the rest of the way alone. Every compartment near the front of the train was full. 

On the way toward the back, where I knew there would be empty compartments, I saw Rose and Hugo, my cousins and the children of Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, the Minister of Magic. Rose was sporting a shiny Prefect badge and waved politely when I passed. We used to get on quite well when we were children, but since Hogwarts and being sorted into opposing houses, we’d drifted apart. It also annoyed me to no end that Scorpius was smitten with her, even though she had been anything but nice to him or me since starting school. I didn’t talk to Hugo outside of family gatherings much, but he was pretty funny and not as mean as his sister. 

As I continued walking, I saw my cousins Fred and Roxanne, the children of Uncle George and Aunt Angelina, as well as my cousin Louis, the last of my Uncle Bill’s children to go to Hogwarts. They were all friendly enough and quite mischievous in a harmless way. I gave them a nod as I passed. 

I saw James going in and out of different compartments, telling everyone hello and laughing. Unlike me, he was very popular. 

When I finally reached the end of the train, there was only one compartment left empty. This was the one Scorpius and I usually sat in, and I was glad it was still free so that I didn’t have to share with and talk to anyone else. Not many people ventured all the way back there, so we were always left alone. I dropped the bag I didn’t stow away onto a seat just as the train started moving. I looked out the window and through the throng saw my parents talking to some aunts and uncles. I could also see steam starting to pick up as the train rolled along the tracks. 

I heard a soft pounding of footsteps coming down the corridor and getting increasingly louder, and before I could sit, a blur of white-blond hair rushed into my field of vision and I was enveloped in a crushing hug.

“Oof!” He had knocked the wind out of me. 

“I made it!” Scorpius pulled himself from me and stood there, beaming. He was sweaty and out of breath. A travel bag hung on his arm and a wand threatened to fall from his pocket. Unlike mine, which had started to grow around my ears, his hair had been cut a bit shorter. Like me, though, he had grown taller. I noticed he was already wearing his Hogwarts robes and, like Rose, he had a Prefect badge proudly pinned to them. 

“Where the hell have you been?” I asked, punching him lightly on the arm. 

“Telling my dad goodbye! He didn’t want me to leave.” He set his bag down and took the seat across from me. I moved over there to join him. 

“I waited for you as long as I could.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” He smiled at me as he opened his bag and pulled out his usual, smaller, bag of sweets. I noticed that he sounded different. For as long as I’d known him, his voice would sort of crack or reach a higher octave at any given moment. But as he spoke to me, I found that it had lost its screechiness and instead seemed steadier and deeper. Perhaps he was growing out of it. 

“I like this,” I said, poking the Prefect badge on his chest. 

“My dad’s really proud,” he beamed. “I was a little surprised.”

“Surprised? Who else would be named Prefect in our year? Alan Armstrong? Tadgh Coughland? They only care about Quidditch.”

“I thought maybe you—” 

“I’m going to stop you right there,” I said, laughing. “McGonagall would never make me Prefect.”

“Not with that attitude, no. Do you think Rose made Prefect?”

“I know she did. I saw her earlier.”

“Hm,” he said, munching on a Cockroach Cluster. “I suppose I’ll find out who all the Prefects are at the meeting.”

“There’s a meeting?”

“Yes,” he said, handing me a Peppermint Toad. “I have to head up to the front of the train later so I know all my duties for the year.”

I thought about all the responsibility that came with being a Prefect and was grateful that I didn’t have to take that on. Also, the likelihood that any of my classmates would find me authoritative was slim to none. “Sounds bloody awful,” I reasoned aloud. 

“Watch yourself, Potter,” Scorpius said, pulling a Pepper Imp out of his sweets bag and popping one into his mouth. Steam exploded out of his ears. “You don’t want to cross me now that I can discipline you.” 

“You wouldn’t,” I laughed, waving some of the steam away. 

“Watch me.”

“I’d like to see you try.” I shoved him lightly. 

“Oh yeah?” He shoved me back, smiling. 

I flicked his Prefect badge. He responded by ruffling my hair. I prodded him in the ribs where I knew he was ticklish. He smacked my hand away. I reached over and grabbed his bag of sweets.

“Now you’ve done it,” he said. He lunged at me and tried to reclaim the bag, but I held it out of his reach. He tackled me and we wrestled over the bag, laughing. 

“Ahem.” 

I looked over Scorpius’s shoulder at the compartment door. Rose was standing there, frowning at the sight in front of her. I’m sure we looked ridiculous; Scorpius was sitting on my legs and had my arms pinned above my head, and his bag of sweets lay forgotten on the floor. 

“Rose!” Scorpius said, his voice hitting that all-familiar high pitch. “What may we assist you with today?” I rolled my eyes. 

“We have a meeting to attend,” she said. “You know, us Prefects.” I somehow rolled my eyes harder. 

“Ah, yes, I’ll be right there! I’m just dealing with some insubordination at the moment from our Albus here.” He lightly pinched my cheek. I snorted out a laugh. 

“You two get weirder every year,” Rose said, shaking her head. She started to leave and then popped her head back in. “Oh, and the Trolley Witch is headed down, if you want to get something to eat before we start.”

“And that’s my cue,” said Scorpius. He got off of me and straightened his robes. “I’ll leave you to deal with the Trolley Witch.” He picked up his bag of sweets and placed it on my chest. “See you in a bit?” 

“Okay,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. I sat up. 

“And don’t you go jumping off the train, Albus Severus,” he said at the compartment door, wagging his finger at me. “If I hear any footsteps overhead, I’m coming for you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving him off. “I know you will.” He gave me one more smile and then left. At some point I fell asleep. Scorpius never made it back. For the first time in five years, I rode the rest of the train ride alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Albus needs more love! He's a sweet baby, and Scorpius, in all of his geeky glory, is all of us.


	2. Chapter Two

I didn’t see Scorpius again until we were loading into the carriages that would take us to the castle. I was settling in when he suddenly appeared and slid into the seat next to me. He threw his bag on top of mine between us. 

“Sorry!” he said. “The meeting went longer than expected.”

“You don’t say.” I watched him bring the front of his robes to his mouth, blow two hot puffs of air onto his badge, and then polish the metal with his sleeve. I had changed into my own robes and school uniform back on the train. 

“There’s a lot of work to be done, Albus,” he said, in a tone that suggested his new role as Prefect was equivalent to the distinguished head of a department at the Ministry. 

“Oh yeah?” I asked, humoring him. We started along the path that led to the castle. Since last year, Scorpius and I had been able to see the creatures that pulled the carriages along. To most, it looked like the carriages moved of their own enchanted accord. But for those of us who had seen death, the carriages were pulled by skeletal horses with large, waxy, black wings. James had me terrified of them when I first started Hogwarts. But now that I could see them in all their eeriness, I rather liked them. And besides, it’s not like I wanted to walk all the way up to the castle.

“Oh, yes,” he continued. Leaning over our bags, he took it upon himself to tuck my collar into place and straighten my green tie. “I’ve got to show all the new Slytherins the way to the dungeons, keep a list of the passwords, patrol the corridors twice a week, attend meetings, and make sure there’s no mutiny at any given moment. All while preparing for O.W.L. exams!”

“Sounds like a lot, mate.”

“It’s going to be _a-ma-zing_ ,” he sang. I feigned gagging, but smiled. 

“A Hufflepuff Prefect told me that sometimes we have to make sure the Quidditch pitch looks good before a game. Maybe that will give me an edge when I try out…”

“You’re still on about that?” I asked him, incredulously. “We _hate_ Quidditch, Scorpius.”

“That’s what you keep saying, but I think we never really gave it a chance! You’re a fan of Brazil!”

“Okay, so maybe I just hate Quidditch at school,” I clarified. “You know, the place where people hate us.”

“No one hates you, you dramatic git,” said a voice I immediately recognized. Fred had swung open the carriage door, jumped in, and took the seat across from us. “You’re just so… sullen. It’s off-putting.”

“I am not!”

“You are a bit,” said Louis, who had caught the carriage just as it had started picking up speed and jumped up to join us. The door swung closed. 

“Scorpius, am I sullen?”

“Well…” he began, looking as if he was battling an internal struggle. I narrowed my eyes at him. “You can be a bit… moody at times.”

I glared at him. 

“But I don’t mind it!” 

Fred was laughing. I scowled and crossed my arms. I could feel Scorpius looking at me. 

“How long are you going to be mad at me?” he asked.

“For calling me moody or for ditching me on the train?”

“Both?”

I thought about it. “Eight minutes.”

“Fine,” he huffed. He carried on a conversation with Fred and Louis while I stared pointedly away. I watched the other carriages wind up the path, pulled along by the Thestrals. By the time we reached the castle, I assumed my eight minutes were up and turned back to the group. 

“I’m fucking starving,” I said, gathering my bag and jumping out. Scorpius tutted at my language, as he always did, but followed me, throwing his arm around my shoulders and walking with me and the rest of the students through the oak front doors and into the Entrance Hall. 

When we got to the the Great Hall, we chose seats at the far end of the Slytherin table. Fred and Louis had broken off to join their own houses. I saw Fred sit next to his friends and James join him soon after. Rose, surrounded by a loud group of laughing people, was making her way to their table as well. 

Scorpius and I ate the rest of his sweets while we waited for the First Years to come in and watched as they all were sorted. I saw the twins of a family friend, Luna, sorted in Ravenclaw and walk airily over to that table and take a seat not far from where Louis was sitting. When the Sorting Ceremony finally ended, and after McGonagall gave the usual welcome speech, complete with warnings not to go into the Forbidden Forest or partake in any illegal activities (Scorpius blanched), plates of food appeared and we tucked in. 

We were halfway through some venison pie when a girl in our year tapped Scorpius on the shoulder.

“Yes?” he asked, looking up at her, gaping a bit. Not a lot of people talked to us by choice. I reached over and wiped some mashed potato from the corner of his mouth so he didn’t look like too much of an idiot. 

“Scorpius, right?” I rolled my eyes. Portia Bellchant undoubtedly knew who he was. Even if our fellow Slytherins didn’t like us, they were fully aware that we existed. After all, people had been somehow sneaking into our dormitory and vandalizing Scorpius’s things for years. 

Scorpius swallowed and nodded. 

“The Head Girl just told me that we’re to introduce ourselves to the First Years and then escort them to the common room. Here’s the passwords for the term.” She looked around before discreetly handing Scorpius a folded up piece of parchment, like she was passing a complex rune sequence that if deciphered would threaten wizarding existence as we knew it. 

“Ah, of course!” Scorpius got up and straightened his badge. He gave me an apologetic look. “I’ll see you in our dorm?” I waved him away, trying not to look disappointed. 

“Little ones!” I heard Scorpius say, clapping his hands together and heading toward the younger students. 

“Bye, Albus,” Portia said, as they started for the other end of the table, where Scorpius was already talking animatedly to some peaky First Years. I mocked her under my breath. The pudding in front of me that I was so keen to start on next no longer looked that appetizing.

* * *

I didn’t see Scorpius again until almost nine o'clock. I had gone to our dormitory, which now had a sign on the door stating “Fifth Years.” The inside of the room looked mostly the same as last year. The spherical lamps that floated below the ceiling gave off their usual green glow and were dimming slightly as the hour passed, as if they were aware that curfew was near and bedtime imminent. The large, elegant green rug was still sprawled across the stone floor, and the only window in the room, tall and curved to follow the one arced wall and often making me feel like I lived in a green glass bottle, looked out into the depths of the Great Lake. The only thing different from last year was that there were only four four-poster beds with silk green hangings instead of the usual five. A new table had been placed in front of the window where the missing bed used to be. I sighed. Craig’s absence was still palpable. 

The new table, with its four matching chairs and lamp, was probably put there to influence some kind of camaraderie among the remaining dormmates. I found that it further divided the room, though. My bed and Scorpius’s bed were farthest from the door and on the right of the new table, closer to the bathroom. Tadgh and Alan slept to the table’s left. There were also wardrobes on either side of the window, one for Tadgh and Alan to use and other for me and Scorpius. I had a feeling that the mood in the dormitory would be the same as always: quiet and slightly hostile. 

I had brought up some pudding and sat the dish on Scorpius’s nightstand. My trunk had been brought up and placed at the foot of my bed. His had been brought up as well. I went over to his trunk and opened it, shaking my head at the faint “Son of Voldemort” that had been written on it in various places (and that Scorpius had unsuccessfully tried cleaning off). 

I carefully sifted through some of the items haphazardly thrown in there (including more Pepper Imps, a muggle yo-yo, a photograph of ten-year-old me pouting on my birthday that James had owled to him last Christmas as a joke, and a stuffed toy Niffler) until I found his clothing. I pulled out the midnight blue pajama bottoms and shirt he always wore and placed them on his pillow, and then I turned down the green coverlet and sheet. I searched the trunk again and found the small travel pack that he kept his bathroom things in. I took out his toothbrush and toothpaste and walked them over to the shared bathroom. I placed them in the cubby on the wall where they usually sat. 

I went through my own trunk and got out my pajamas, toothbrush, and soap. I took a shower and then dried off with one of the warm towels always available on the rack outside the stall. I brushed my teeth, borrowing Scorpius’s toothpaste because I never packed my own. After giving myself a minty smile in the mirror, I placed my toothbrush right next to his. I liked that we shared a bathroom cubby. 

I pulled out one last thing from my trunk: my textbook for Ancient Runes, _Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms_ , and began reading on my bed. I was almost done with the first chapter when Tadgh and Alan came in. They muttered hellos and started going through their own stuff, getting ready for bed. I didn’t talk to my dormmates much. They usually ignored me. 

Scorpius came in a few minutes later. 

“I’ve successfully shown every Slytherin first year the ins and outs of our common room and their own dorm,” he said proudly. “No one wanted to play any get-to-know-you games, though.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

Scorpius waved to Tadgh and Alan, who had just come out of the bathroom. They nodded at him and then got into their respective beds, drawing the green hangings around them. 

“Another fun year in the dorms,” I heard him mumble. He laid his wand on his nightstand and saw the pudding. He turned and looked at me, smiling. 

“What?” 

He didn’t say anything but just smiled at me again. He brought the pudding over and sat next me. He ate while I read my book, occasionally looking at a rune inscription with me, and then got ready for bed. He turned and smiled at me again when he saw his pajamas waiting for him on his pillow. 

While he was in the bathroom, I pulled my green hangings shut and got under the covers. The lamps hovering above were down to a faint flicker. I heard the shower turn off and Scorpius brushing his teeth. I was just closing my eyes when my hangings slid open. 

“Albus?” 

I sat up. 

“What is it?” 

“I just wanted to tell you goodnight.” Then he leaned down, one knee on my bed, and hugged me. I hugged him back, patting him awkwardly. We had hugged a lot in the past year, but never had we done so in our pajamas like we wouldn’t see each other first thing next morning. 

“Er, goodnight then,” I said, my cheek pressed against his shoulder. He let go of me and then made his way back to his bed and got in, leaving his hangings halfway open. I watched him curl up on his side and bring his covers so far up his face that all that peeked out was the bridge of his pale nose and his tousled blond hair. I kept my hangings parted as well and watched the steady rise and fall of his lumpy silhouette until the lights dimmed to dark and I fell asleep.

* * *

We got our timetables at breakfast next morning. We had Charms first with Professor Flitwick and the Ravenclaws, followed by a break and then a triple Herbology with Neville and the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. After lunch I had Ancient Runes and Scorpius had Muggle Studies. Then we met again for Potions before dinner. 

“I can’t believe we have to see the Gryffindors on our first full day back,” I groaned. 

“Well you correctly predicted you’d need to read your Runes book for today,” Scorpius said, looking at my timetable. “Maybe you should be taking Divination.” I snorted. 

“I’d rather not spend an hour a week staring at tea dregs and predicting my inevitable doom, thank you very much.”

“And I have enough anxiety as it is,” Scorpius agreed, downing a glass of pumpkin juice. “I think we’ve chosen our electives well, don’t you?”

I thought about how much I liked Ancient Runes and how little magic was needed for Care of Magical Creatures. And then I thought about how those were the only classes I didn’t share with Scorpius and how sad that sometimes made me. It was a balance. 

“Yeah,” I said, having to agree. “Although I don’t know why you like Arithmancy so much.”

“Because it’s brilliant, Albus,” he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s not so different from Runes. Just numbers instead of symbols when you’re solving a puzzle.”

We went to our dormitory to gather our school bags and books and then headed to Charms. We were learning the Silencing Charm and spent the class muting squealing guinea pigs. Mine was exceptionally noisy, chittering constantly and breaking through my “silencios” more than once. I finally told it to shut the fuck up, which caused Scorpius to aim his silencing spell at me. 

We walked in silence (mine forced) to the grounds and then spent our break just enjoying the morning air beneath one of the trees on the sloping lawns not far from the castle. We headed to Greenhouse Three for Herbology a bit later. 

“I wonder what Neville has us doing today,” I said, my voice finally coming back to me. 

“ _Professor Longbottom_ , Albus.” 

“Whatever,” I said, shrugging. Neville was my godfather, and it still felt weird to call him by his teaching title. 

We found a table to share at the back of the greenhouse. Knowing that we would be working with more dangerous plants, I pulled out my dragon hide gloves. I saw other students start to trickle in, including the Gryffindors. Rose, flanked by friends on either side of her, took a table to the front. Scorpius waved at her. I barely nodded.

An obnoxious laugh told me that Polly Chapman had graced the class with her presence. She walked toward us with Karl Jenkins and Yann Fredericks in tow. Polly was annoying and mean, to say the least. She made Rose look delightful. Yann was a little milder but still unkind (and I noticed that he was sporting a Prefect’s badge on the front of his robes). Karl made it his personal mission to make sure Scorpius and I were miserable at all times. I hated them. 

“Hello, Squibby,” Polly said to me, chortling at her own joke. 

“Fuck off, Polly,” I said. Scorpius hmphed next to me while he pulled on his own gloves. 

“What, I can’t even swear at _Chapman_?” I asked him. He pondered this. 

“You’re right,” he said. “Carry on.” 

“Mind your boyfriend, Malfoy,” Karl said, knocking Scorpius’s copy of Flesh-Eating Trees of the World from our table as he passed. I gave Karl the finger and then picked up Scorpius’s book. Scorpius’s ears had gone completely red. 

“Settle down, boys,” Neville said, looking in our direction. He had just entered the greenhouse and shut the door behind him. “No need to pull on your gloves. We’re starting with some discussion today. Everyone looked around. We typically went right to potting or pruning in Herbology. 

Neville lectured for a while. He stressed the importance of the year and getting an O.W.L. in his class and how we were expected to read at least two chapters from the textbook before each lesson. After a half hour of him droning on had passed, I finally pulled off my gloves. Scorpius was absentmindedly leafing through his book, his chin resting on his hand and his eyes unfocused. 

“You okay?” I asked him. 

“Oh, I’m just revising,” he said.

“You’re revising a chapter we haven’t read yet?” I asked, unconvinced. “In the middle of a lecture?” 

He closed his book. “Does it bother you?” he asked me. “What Karl says?”

“No, because he’s a stupid git.”

“But does the… subject matter bother you? The stuff he says about you? Or me?”

“I don’t like it when he calls you ‘Son of Voldemort,’ if that’s what you’re asking.”

“What about the other stuff?”

“What other stuff?”

“Like…just now, Albus. When he implies that we’re... boyfriends or something.” His ears were red again, and a blush was blooming across his cheeks.

“Er, I suppose not. I’d rather he think I was your boyfriend than a Squib or you the spawn of some great evil.”

His blush crept down to his neck. “Oh, okay.”

“Why? Does it bother you?”

“Um, maybe a little bit,” he said, not meeting my eyes. For some reason that made me angry.

“It’s not like it’s true,” I said acidly. “I doubt anyone else thinks it.” He still wasn’t looking at me. “Don’t worry, I won’t ruin your chances with Rose or anything.”

He looked at me then, hurt. I immediately regretted my tone. “I just mean,” he said quietly. “That it bothers me that he thinks he can bother me with that. Like it would be insulting to-to- be with you.” His last words ended on a mumble. I didn’t know what to say. 

Luckily, Neville wrapped up his lecture. “...and please read the chapter on juicing Snargaluff pods before next week!” 

We gathered our things and left for lunch, barely speaking on the way back. “I don’t feel insulted either,” I finally said while we were eating sandwiches in the Great Hall. “You’re great. You’re going to make some girl very happy and very annoyed one day.” Scorpius laughed. 

I walked with Scorpius to his Muggle Studies class on the first floor and then went up the marble staircase to Ancient Runes. It was relaxing to translate the scratchings Professor Babbling wrote out on the board, and I aced her usual beginning-of-class quiz.

On my way to Potions, I ran into Professor McGonagall, who reminded me that my standing Friday detention would resume that night. I groaned to Scorpius in class while we prepared ingredients for a Confusing Draught, and wondered aloud what bathroom we would have to clean. Professor Verity swept over to our table, eyed our progress appreciatively, and then moved on. When we turned in our bottled draught at the end of class, Professor Verity nodded approvingly at its color. “Looks excellent as usual, Mr. Potter.” Scorpius nudged me and wagged his eyebrows. He always teased me about our Potions professor, who was quite beautiful, according to most blokes

“Come off it!” I told him.

We went to dinner, where we stuffed ourselves with beef casserole, and then slowly made our way to the Headmistress’s Office on the seventh floor. As soon as we approached the gargoyle guarding the door, Professor McGonagall walked out. She handed us a list of tasks to complete each Friday until October and directed us toward the first one: polishing the suits of armor in the Armor Gallery. Full and weary from dinner and walking what felt like half of the castle just today, we headed back down the moving staircases and to the third floor. 

An hour later we were finally done. We would have been done sooner, but Peeves had come and poured gravy over one of the suits of armor, forcing us to clean it again. We hurried to the dungeons, trying to make it before curfew and before Filch could find a reason to give us another detention. 

We collapsed on our beds, and I was just about to fall asleep until Scorpius convinced me to at least brush my teeth. I did and even found enough energy to shower. I climbed into my bed at last and burrowed under my covers, drifting off almost immediately. 

I opened one eye, however, when I felt my bed shift. I saw a blurry Scorpius sitting on the edge in his midnight blue pajamas. I blinked until he came into full focus. 

“Can I help you?" I mumbled. 

“I didn’t tell you goodnight,” he said, picking at my coverlet. 

I propped myself up on my elbow and beckoned him over with my other hand. “Come on, then.” 

He smiled, leaned down and, for the second night in a row, we embraced.

“Goodnight, Albus,” he said, his breath at my neck. Exhausted and comforted by the arms around me, I let myself fall back onto my pillow. As I was drifting off again, I felt him let go and bring my covers back up to my chest. My bed shifted again when his weight left it. Before I fell asleep completely, I thought that, all in all, it was a pretty good first day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Off to a slow start, but it'll pick up. 
> 
> By the way, I'm not positive what year Craig was in, or if it was made clear, so I just put him in the same year as Albus and Scorpius. 
> 
> It's also my belief that Albus uses a 3-in-1 shampoo/conditioner/body wash combo and Scorpius, who uses only the finest shampoo and goat milk soap, doesn't understand it.


	3. Chapter Three

Quidditch tryouts were held the next Saturday. In the days prior, Scorpius had spent an absurd amount of time reading and rereading _Quidditch Through the Ages_ and _The Noble Sport of Warlocks_ in the common room and drawing complicated diagrams in the margins of his class notes. 

“Do you know what position you’re trying out for?” I asked him at breakfast the morning of the tryouts. We were sitting side-by-side at the far end of the Slytherin table. I was eating toast, and Scorpius was staring at a bowl of cereal, his face tinged green. 

“Seeker,” he said, in a small voice.

“Then why,” I started, picking one of his books off the table, “are you reading _The Beaters’ Bible_?” 

“You need to be sharp about the whole game, Albus,” he said, his face slightly returning to its normal color. If anything could bring Scorpius back to sanity, it was books. “That’s why I also have a copy of this.” He pointed to a book on his left, _Beating the Bludgers: A Study of Defensive Strategies in Quidditch_. 

Just then, about a hundred owls swooped overhead, all carrying letters or parcels. A handsome grey owl I recognized as the one belonging to Draco Malfoy dropped a long, slender package onto our table, knocking over several goblets of pumpkin juice in the process and earning us several eye rolls from our fellow Slytherins.

“My new broom!” Scorpius said gleefully. The owl, who had grown quite accustomed to me after flying letters to my house all summer, perched on my shoulder and began nipping affectionately at my ear. I offered him a bit of my toast before he flew off again. I muttered _Tergeo_ and used my wand to clean up a pool of spilled pumpkin juice that was slowing spreading on the table. (To my surprise, my charm actually worked.) 

Scorpius carefully picked up the package and began untying the strings that held the brown wrapping paper together.

“Holy shit,” I said, as Scorpius peeled the paper back far enough to reveal the broomstick inside. “That’s a Varápidos!” 

“I know!” Scorpius said, his smile stretching to his ears. 

“That’s the broom the Brazilian National Team uses!” I said, my eyes roving over the sleek Ipe handle finished in a honey color, the perfectly trimmed and matching tail twigs, and the five silver rings holding the rear end of the handle and bristles all together and embossed with a delicate diamond pattern. I couldn’t hold in my excitement. “Gonçalo Flores uses this broom!”

“I know!” Scorpius said again, laughing.

“When you said that you asked your dad for a broom I thought maybe he’d get you a new Firebolt or the latest Comet! But this… this is an imported, international-grade, professional broomstick, Scorpius!” 

From my earlier days of following Gonçalo Flores, I knew that Varápidos were made with Ipe wood, the sturdiness of which helped balance the broom’s extreme quickness, which was due in large part to the light and airy Kapok tree twigs used in the bristles. I knew also that the crafters of the brooms used fire slugs to burn serial numbers into each handle. Even though it had been a while since I had kept up with South American broom standards, I knew that Scorpius’s broom was the latest version of what every player on the Brazilian National Team was riding.

“I asked Dad to get me something nice, but I never expected _this_ ,” Scorpius said. He carefully held the broom handle across his hands and let it gently roll back and forth in his palms. The silver from the rings fastening the bristles together glinted. “Maybe he got it because I mention you liking Brazil so much. I told him that whatever broom he got me I was going to share it with you.”

I gaped at him. “You’d let me ride this?”

“Of course,” he said, tipping it into my hands. I held it carefully and then brought it closer to my face to get a better look. “Scorpius…”

“Better keep Albus away from your broom unless you want it to catch on fire, Malfoy,” came a voice behind us. Karl and some of his Hufflepuff friends had walked up to the Slytherin table. 

“Go away, Karl,” Scorpius said. I ran my fingers over the engraved silver before handing the broomstick back to its owner. 

“What are you sporting, Karl, a Swiftstick?” I asked, not really caring what kind of broom Karl owned. 

“At least I have a broom,” he replied. “You can’t even get one off the ground.”

It was true that I had trouble flying in the past, but I had gotten loads better since First Year. I played a tamer version of Quidditch with Lily and James in the summers on my Comet. Not that any of that was Karl’s business. 

“You can shove your broom right up your—”

“What’s going on over here?” Rose asked, cutting me off. She had walked over to our table, apparently drawn by the growing crowd. While Karl and I were glaring at each other, a number of other students had gathered to ogle at Scorpius’s broom. 

“None of your business,” I told her. Rose was on Gryffindor’s Quidditch team. She was pretty good, too. 

“Merlin, Al, I was only asking.”

“New broom,” said Scorpius, grinning at Rose. Rose eyed the broom approvingly. 

“You’re trying out for your house’s team, then?” 

“Obviously,” I said. 

Scorpius shot me a look of annoyance and then nodded at her. 

“Well, good luck!” she said, waving goodbye. Scorpius watched her go, a small smile on his face. Karl followed her, still shooting me dirty looks as he left. I gave him the two-finger salute. 

“Rose must approve,” he said. 

“That won’t stop her from scoring about a thousand points on Slytherin,” I told him. 

“No, it won’t,” said James, who had just come up behind us. He peered over Scorpius’s shoulder at the broom and gave a low whistle. “But mate, that is nice.” 

“Thank you, James!” 

“I’m still going to catch the Snitch before you, though,” James said with a wink. Along with being Captain of the Gryffindor team, James was also Seeker. 

“And I’m going to be aiming right for you,” joked Fred, who had joined our table as well. Fred was one of Gryffindor’s Beaters.

Scorpius laughed. I could tell he was loving the positive attention, so different than what was usually doled out to us. I loved that he loved it. 

Scorpius’s smile widened even more when he saw Tadgh and Alan walk over, looking interested. Tadgh was a Beater and Alan a Chaser. Both looked at Scorpius like they were seeing him for the first time. 

“You’re telling me that we could have _that_ broomstick on our team?” Tadgh said in disbelief, his eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. 

“If Scorpius makes the team,” said Alan, practically. 

They both looked at the broom. Alan went to touch the handle, and then stopped midway. 

“Can I?” 

“Er,” said Scorpius, clutching the broomstick close to his chest. “Maybe later…” 

Alan looked disappointed but nodded in understanding. 

“Don’t crowd the man!” Louis had come over from the Ravenclaw table and began shooing the others away. Slowly, people started leaving our table. James and Fred wished Scorpius good luck as they left and Tadgh and Alan went back to their seats, looking longingly at the broom as they did so. 

Scorpius let Louis get a good look at the Varápidos as they discussed its beauty. Louis didn’t play Quidditch, but he liked flying. 

“You have too much money,” he told Scorpius, clapping him on the back. 

“Correction: my dad has too much money. I have whatever he decides to give me.”

“Pocket change, I’m sure,” Louis said with a grin. Everyone knew the Malfoys were one of the wealthiest wizarding families in Europe. Scorpius always had the finest quills, scales, gloves, and pajamas. Us Potters (and some Weasleys) weren’t exactly hard pressed for Galleons, but we also didn’t live in a manor. 

Scorpius and I got back to our breakfast after everyone finally left us alone. Well, at least I did. Scorpius had resumed staring at his bowl, his face again turning green in hue. He had sat the broom across our laps, shielding it from further inspection by the rest of the Great Hall. 

“Hey,” I told him, nudging him with my elbow, “You’re going to be okay.” He nodded but continued staring at his cereal bowl. The flakes looked soggy. I reached across him, careful to not roll the bottom half of the broomstick off my lap, and replaced his bowl with a fresh plate of bacon. 

“I need you to eat something,” I said. When he didn’t move, I took his right hand under the table and gave it a squeeze. He looked at me and gave me a small smile before picking up a slice of bacon and taking a bite. When I tried to loosen our hands, his grip only tightened. So I kept my hand there, in his and resting on the broomstick. He was lucky that he was left handed and that I was sitting on his right side, or I wouldn’t have been so willing to stay in this awkward arrangement. 

* * *

After breakfast we headed to the Quidditch pitch. It was a beautiful clear day, perfect for flying. Although he was nervous, Scorpius could barely contain the grin on his face as he walked across the mound, carrying his new broom proudly over his shoulder. As we walked across the grass, my mind drifted to thoughts of Craig and how this was the last place he was alive. I shuddered and wondered if Scorpius, whose grin had faltered slightly, was thinking the same thing. 

We found a spot near the north goal posts. Scorpius placed his broom carefully on the ground and then, as if it was reading his mind, it rose to just below his waist and hovered there, invitingly. I watched as Scorpius nervously mounted the broomstick, handed me his wand, and then rose higher, higher, higher, until he took off toward the other end of the pitch. 

The Varápidos looked like a dream. Scorpius was gliding effortlessly above, more confident and graceful than I had ever seen him fly. He was quickly weaving across the pitch, going into dives and pulling back up, and making sharp turns. When he landed next to me with a soft pad of his shoes onto the grass, he looked blissfully windswept. 

“Your turn,” he said, slightly breathless. I eyed the broom apprehensively. “Go on,” he said. And he let the broom hover once more and then gave it a pat on its handle. The broomstick turned itself to hover near me and then nudged my hip. 

“Thank you,” I said, still in awe that he would let me ride one of the best brooms in the world and possibly the most expensive and exceptional object I’d ever come into contact with. He took both our wands from my pocket and nodded eagerly at me. I gripped the broom’s handle and then got on. 

It was like I became a different person. Like someone who was born to fly. Like the Varápidos was engineered specifically for me. I was light and free and fucking fast. I flew across the pitch and around the hoops. I thought that if I wanted to play Quidditch, I’d have a decent shot based on this broom alone. High up in the air, I looked down and saw Scorpius waving at me. I squinted and saw that with him was a small, red-haired girl: Lily. I flew down to join them. 

“That is the best thing in the world,” I said, as I handed the Varápidos back to Scorpius. Lily, who had her own broomstick over her shoulder, looked at the Varápidos in amazement. 

“Scorpius…”

“That’s what Albus said,” Scorpius said, smiling.

“Do you think I can have a go one day?”

“Sure,” said Scorpius, although he didn’t look too sure. “Perhaps one day…” 

“I understand if you want it all to yourself!” Lily said. And I knew that she did understand. Lily loved Quidditch and never let me borrow her Starsweeper. 

“Maybe I want it all to myself for just a little bit longer,” Scorpius admitted. “Well, myself and Albus.”

“Lucky,” Lily said, looking at me and shaking her head. 

“Yep.” I threw my arm around Scorpius, who I noticed blushed slightly. “You trying out, Lily?”

“Yes,” she said, looking up at the sky with one hand shielding her eyes from the sun. “Chaser. When James leaves, then Seeker.” 

“I’m trying out for Seeker, too,” Scorpius said. “I’m a bit nervous…” 

“Do you want to practice together?” Lily asked. I looked at her with newfound fondness. No one in my family really approved of my friendship with Scorpius, and for Lily to offer to do something fun with him made me really happy. “Tryouts aren’t until noon, right? We can practice with this ball I’ve charmed to fly pretty far when thrown.” She held up a golf ball. 

“I can throw it,” I said, taking my arm off Scorpius and taking the golf ball from Lily.

We practiced with the fake Snitch for a couple of hours. I would throw the golf ball and it would soar across the sky until Scorpius or Lily caught it. Both of them did very well. Scorpius’s broom was faster than Lily’s, but Lily clearly had more practice; when we did timed trials, she usually caught the ball first. After Scorpius felt he’d practiced enough, I performed a slight Engorgio on the golf ball and we helped Lily practice her Chasing. Scorpius would try to block her while she attempted goals, and I shouted various fouls, quizzing them on what could happen during a match. 

By the time we were done, we were all sweaty. We had just enough time to cool off until tryouts. Other Quidditch hopefuls had started to make their way toward the pitch. It seemed that only Gryffindor and Slytherin were holding tryouts during lunch. Lily left us when she spotted James heading toward the south end of the pitch. He was followed closely by a bunch of other Gryffindors, including Rose, all trying to talk to him or butter him up. 

Mack Wimberly, a stocky blond Sixth Year and the current Slytherin Captain, made camp at the north end of the pitch where we were. From a duffel bag, he pulled out some Quaffles, Bludgers, Beaters’ bats, and, like Lily had, a golf ball. I smiled at Scorpius, trying to look reassuring, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was looking as green as the grass he was staring at. 

Alan and Tadgh had made it and were ready to defend their current positions on the team. There were also other students not in our year that I didn’t recognize. When it looked like trials would start soon, I told Scorpius that I would go wait for him in the stands. When he didn’t acknowledge anything I was saying and instead only swayed a bit on the spot, looking like he might be sick any moment, I took his face in my hands and repeated what I told him that morning. 

“Hey,” I said, meeting his eyes. “You’re going to be okay. _You’re going to be okay_.” Even though it wasn’t hot out, a bead of sweat began to run from his hairline down to his cheek. I wiped it away with my thumb. 

“Okay,” Scorpius croaked. He nodded, more to himself than to me, and said again, “Okay.” I pulled him into a hug, the broomstick pressing uncomfortably against my shoulder, and patted him on the back. I walked backward toward the stands so I could give him a double thumbs up and make sure he wasn’t going to hurl. 

Mack blew his whistle and announced that potential Chasers would be going first. I watched from my seat on the stands as Alan and some others tried scoring. Although Mack was a Beater on the team, he played Keeper for the tryouts, doing a decent job blocking goals. He had the Chasers trying different techniques, such as formation looping and the Woollongong Shimmy. A very pretty girl with curly black hair and olive skin stood out the most. She was able to zig-zag effortlessly between the others. 

The hopeful Beaters were next. Tadgh and others trying out for that position swung the Bludgers aggressively in every direction. I felt bad for the curly-haired girl, as she volunteered to be Chaser and had to dodge the Bludgers zooming past. 

Only one student had shown up to tryout for Keeper, a small girl with a high blonde ponytail. To Mack’s delight, she successfully blocked all but one of the goals he and the potential Chasers threw.

Finally, the would-be Seekers were up. Mack blew his whistle and signaled for the only two people trying out for the position: Scorpius and a good looking, dark-haired Sixth Year I’d seen around the common room. His name was Horatio Russo and, unfortunately, he was _good_. As soon as Mack threw the golf ball, Horatio was on its tail. Scorpius followed and caught up, his broom outstripping Horatio’s, which looked like a new Comet. Again and again Mack threw the golf ball, and we all watched as Scorpius and Horatio raced after it. While Scorpius clearly had the better broomstick, Horatio was more daring. He was quicker to turn and more willing to take a nosedive when the golf ball fell too low. On the final throw, Mack had Tadgh whack a Bludger toward Scorpius and Horatio. Scorpius dodged the Bludger just fine, but Horatio performed a spectacular Sloth Grip Roll before catching the golf ball before it hit the ground. 

Mack blew his whistle for the last time and announced that tryouts were finished and that he’d post the results in the common room after dinner. I watched Scorpius dismount and walk dejectedly toward the stands. I met him halfway. 

“I was rubbish,” he said. 

“No, you were great,” I told him. “Russo just did that fancy thing at the end. Bit of a show off if you ask me.”

“I know he’s going to make Seeker,” Scorpius said. Secretly, I agreed, but I would never tell him that. 

“Mack would be an idiot if he didn’t choose you.”

I offered to carry the Varápidos as we walked back toward the castle. Luckily, the Gryffindors were still in the middle of their tryouts, so we didn’t risk running into Rose, who would just make Scorpius more nervous. As we made our way across the grounds, I promised Scorpius that if he didn’t make the team I would still come out and fly with with him whenever he wanted. That seemed to cheer him up a little.

* * *

We did homework in the common room while we waited, Scorpius reading _New Theory of Numerology_ for his Arithmancy class and me finishing a sketch of a Jarvey for Care of Magical Creatures. Halfway through our Transfiguration homework, in which we were supposed to be writing an essay on vanishing spells, Scorpius groaned. 

“I can’t concentrate,” he said, his head in his hands. I noticed he had written maybe two sentences. My parchment, by contrast, was nearly full of my messy handwriting. I put my quill in its ink bottle and looked at the clock that hung on one of the walls. 

“Do you want to go down to dinner?”

“Not really,” he said, although his growling stomach said otherwise. 

“Do you want to go down to the kitchens and see what we can scrounge?”

He perked up instantly. “I could be persuaded.”

We put our books and things away in our room and then headed out of the dungeons and toward the basement corridor directly downstairs from the Great Hall. We stopped at the portrait of the bowl of fruit and tickled the pear, which let out a giggle before turning into a door handle. We pushed the door open, hopped through the portrait hole, and were immediately greeted by several house-elves. 

Scorpius was always smitten with the elves. A huge fan of Aunt Hermione, Scorpius was an advocate for house-elf rights and fully agreed that they should be paid. Whenever we came down to the kitchens, he would offer various elves Knuts after they brought him food. They were usually insulted. Once, thinking that maybe the elves wanted higher wages, he tried paying them Sickles, but that only insulted them more. 

We sat at our usual stools in the far corner near the fireplace and watched the elves scurry around, stirring the contents of various pots and sending food up to the tables above. They brought us plates of cheese sandwiches that we devoured and bottles of Butterbeer that we gulped down immediately. When we couldn’t eat or drink anymore, we left, waving to the elves and making sure no one was patrolling the corridor before stepping back out into it.

* * *

The Slytherin common room was more crowded than usual when we returned, and when we saw Mack use a sticking charm on the notice board, we knew why. 

Everyone had congregated around one piece of parchment stuck in the middle of flyers, club invitations, and lost homework. On the top of the parchment was _2021-2022 Slytherin Quidditch Team_ and below, a list of names:

_Chaser - Alan Armstrong_  
_Chaser - Yasmín Saffary_  
_Chaser - Peter Yates_  
_Beater - Tadgh Coughland_  
_Beater - Mack Wimberly_  
_Keeper - Dana Mayberry_  
_Seeker - Horatio Russell_  
_Reserve Seeker - Scorpius Malfoy_

I looked at Scorpius, ready to console him. To my surprise, he was smiling. 

“I made the team!” 

I looked back at the notice board to make sure I read it correctly. 

“Albus, I’m the Reserve Seeker!” He was on bouncing on the balls of his feet, his face alight with joy. I couldn’t help but grin. 

“I need to write Dad,” he said suddenly, and then he bolted to our room. 

I looked around and saw Mack. He caught my eye and walked over to me. 

“He was good, and if we need him, he’ll play,” he said. “He won’t even have to try out again.”

I made a mental note to tell Scorpius that Mack complimented him. He’d like that. I looked around again and saw the curly-haired girl pumping her fist in the air. That must’ve been Yasmin Saffary. I saw also the blonde girl who’d tried out for Keeper, presumably Dana Mayberry, hugging the boy I saw trying out for Chaser, Peter Yates. When I turned back toward the notice board I saw that Horatio had joined the group and was reading the list, a grin on his face. He turned and saw me looking at him. 

“I thought your friend was in for sure with that broom,” he said. I shrugged. “Albus Potter, right?” 

“Er, yeah.” 

“See you around, then, Al,” he said, smiling. And then he winked at me before walking to the door labeled Sixth Years. I felt my face heat up. What an arsehole. 

I walked to my own room, wondering why I suddenly felt so nervous, and joined Scorpius at the table by the window. He was almost done writing a letter to his father. 

“Want to go to the Owlery with me?” he asked. We rarely went to the top of the West Tower anymore since being up there with Delphi last year. There was no way I was going to make Scorpius go alone. 

“Of course,” I said. We walked together back out to the common room and the dungeons before beginning the long trek up through the castle. On the way, we talked about Quidditch, and I found myself liking the sport just a tiny bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The broom is canon. I've loved the name and idea of it ever since reading the 2014 Quidditch World Cup content on Pottermore a while back.


	4. Chapter Four

Even though O.W.L. exams were ages away, Scorpius had already made me an extensive and complicated revisions timetable. He had worked on it for over a month and presented it to me during lunch one day near the end of October. 

“Is this why I haven’t seen you?” I asked, noticing that the timetable was color coded and even had a legend. Scorpius was spending more nights at the library and usually came back to the dorm just before curfew. 

“That and Prefect duties,” he said before stuffing a sandwich into his mouth. Scorpius’s Prefect obligations had been annoying me to no end lately. Two days or nights a week he patrolled the corridors with Portia, who, according to Scorpius, had read _Hogwarts: A History_ almost as much as him and had “marvelous” opinions on the last five hundred pages of the text. 

When he wasn’t patrolling or in classes, he was at Quidditch practice. He didn’t have much to do there with Horatio playing “outstandingly,” and he confided to me that he suspected he was allowed to participate on the off chance that he’d let the others on the team use his broom. 

We saw each other in class, of course, but there was rarely time to talk about anything when every professor was so keen on hammering into our skulls every bit of information they thought would be on the exams. Stress levels all around were so high that I saw one Ravenclaw girl in our year burst into tears in the library and a Hufflepuff boy vomit into the Transfiguration classroom wastebin after a mock exam. 

Surprisingly, I had neither thrown up nor cried, although I often felt like it. Defense Against the Dark Arts was the hardest class of the term by far. In early October, both Scorpius and I failed at producing a Patronus. Almost everyone in the class had failed as well, but I couldn’t produce even wisps of white smoke. Professor Herringbone, a retired Auror who wore an eyepatch and plaited her long grey hair, tutted at me especially and wondered aloud why I was having such trouble when my father was so spectacular at the charm and worked so hard to get it on the curriculum in the first place. My inability to retrieve a happy memory together with intense lessons on Dementors, Inferi, and werewolves had me feeling dejected and miserable every time I left the classroom. 

I noticed that Scorpius had focused heavily on Defense Against the Dark Arts, as well as Transfiguration and History of Magic, on my timetable. 

“You barely scheduled any time for Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, or Potions!” I said, looking at the timetable more closely. “And Astronomy isn’t listed here at all!”

Scorpius swallowed another bite of sandwich. 

“You don’t need extra revision in your electives, Albus,” he said. He took a swig of my pumpkin juice. “You’re plenty good already. And Herbology and Potions are your best core subjects.”

I had to agree. I wasn’t doing too bad in those. I was even getting better at Charms.

“And Astronomy is all sketching stars and planets,” he went on. “We could revise that in a night or two.”

I let Scorpius chat on about our classes and new studying habits. Mealtimes were some of the only times we had in each other’s company. I was so desperate to see and talk to my friend that I actually looked forward to our standing Friday night detention because it meant hours of just being with him, even if I was scrubbing the inside of a toilet. 

Even though I wasn’t a fan of Prefect duties or Scorpius’s obsession with studying in the library, I couldn’t be cross with him. He still made it a point every evening to hug me goodnight just before bed, and for a few glorious minutes I had his undivided attention and warm embrace. 

“I don’t have any duties during our break,” Scorpius said, snapping me out of my own thoughts. 

“Really?” I asked. The day was starting to look up already. 

“I was thinking that maybe we could talk to Professor McGonagall about that thing? You know, that thing we were going to talk to her about?” 

And the brief moment of hope was gone. 

“Do we have to?” I asked, even though I already knew I was going to agree.

“I’d really like to try.”

“Fine.” 

We finished our lunch and headed toward the staff table at the front of the Great Hall. Since the end of October was near, Scorpius had wanted to talk to McGonagall about ending our detentions and letting us go to the Halloween Feast and Hogsmeade the next month. I wasn’t too eager to go to the feast or Hogsmeade myself, but Scorpius really wanted to attend and reasoned that putting last year’s events behind us and having “a bit of fun” would help us move forward. I didn’t know if I bought what he was selling, but I was willing to go along with it so he didn’t have to ask McGonagall or celebrate Halloween alone. 

When we reached the staff table, McGonagall was talking to Professor Sinistra. Scorpius waited politely, his hands folded behind his back and a pleasant smile on his face as he looked up at the Headmistress, trying to catch her eye. The bell rang and Professor Sinistra excused herself. We stayed put, watching in silence as McGonagall finished a biscuit. 

“Is there a reason why you’re interrupting my lunch, Mr. Malfoy? Mr. Potter?”

“There is one small, _tiny_ reason, yes,” Scorpius said. He was nervously rocking on his heels. “We noticed that the end of October is almost here...”

“I am aware of how time works, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Yes, yes, of course you are!” Scorpius said quickly. “We’re all a little more knowledgeable about the intricacies of time now!” He gave weak laugh. McGonagall’s mouth pressed into a thin line. 

“Professor, we want to know if our Friday night detentions will end after this week,” I interrupted, unable to let Scorpius continue. “We also would like to attend the Halloween Feast on Sunday… and perhaps Hogsmeade in November.”

McGonagall surveyed us for several seconds. Scorpius was rigid beside me, so I touched his arm to remind him to breathe. When McGonagall’s stern face relaxed, Scorpius finally exhaled. I tried to not look too hopeful. 

“Yes, I believe that your punishment has run its course,” she finally said, sounding a bit resigned. “I will permit you to attend the feast. And although I do not know whether you deserve to go to Hogsmeade, I will allow it for fear of what you two could get up to if left to your own boredom and devices again.” 

Scorpius let out a squeak of happiness, and I thought I saw McGonagall’s lips twitch in a smile. 

“Now, let me enjoy the rest of my lunch and you two enjoy your break before I change my mind.”

We picked up our bags from the Slytherin table and left the Great Hall, almost running and barely able to contain our grins. We must’ve had the same thought, because we both headed to the dungeons and our dorm, where we stopped at our shared wardrobe to retrieve the Varápidos. 

Finally able to enjoy a break together and elated with the news that Friday would be our last detention, we went to the empty Quidditch pitch. We had just under an hour to revel in the fact that we were free men again, and we wasted no time scrambling onto Scorpius’s broom and kicking off into the air, together. Perhaps it was the crisp autumn wind blowing through my hair, the view of the orange-yellow-green mélange of the grounds below, or the feeling of being up on a broomstick with my arms around my best friend, but even I was looking forward to the Halloween Feast and future trips to the neighboring village.

* * *

My dad wrote to me the day before Halloween, saying that he was looking forward to another outing with me on Sunday afternoon. 

“Shit,” I said, sighing. “I thought he’d forgotten.” Scorpius and I were at our usual seats at breakfast. 

“Your dad still trying to spend time with you and be a good father?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” 

It seemed that my dad wanted to continue the tradition he started last April, where he and I would spend some time, just the two of us, talking about me or him or anything, really. We had decided that we should spend time together around Halloween considering the significance of the events last year (and forty years ago). I hadn’t written to or heard from my parents all term, so I was half hoping my dad forgot our arrangement. 

“Maybe he’ll take you somewhere for your birthday,” Scorpius said. My birthday was less than two weeks away.

“That would be nice,” I said, and Scorpius smiled at my concession. “That way I can get two bonding moments out in one go.” Scorpius frowned and shook his head. 

With McGonagall’s permission, my dad ended up collecting me Sunday as promised and together we walked down the road that connected Hogwarts to the railway station and entrance to Hogsmeade. It was a crisp day, so he took me to the Three Broomsticks first and bought me a hot Butterbeer with extra foam.

“How are classes?”

“Terrible.”

“How are people?”

“Worse.”

“How are you?”

“Better.”

He gave me a soft smile and I returned it. I watched him drum his fingers on the table and look around. The inn was crowded, and more than once people turned toward our table to look at Harry Potter and his son. 

“Tell me something, Albus,” my dad said, taking a sip of his own Butterbeer. 

“Erm...” I tried to think of something in my life my dad would find interesting. “Oh! Scorpius has a new broom. A Varápidos!”

“Holy shit,” my dad said, wiping some spittled Butterbeer off his chin. 

“That’s what I said!”

“Is Scorpius on the Quidditch team?”

“Well, he’s the reserve Seeker.” 

My dad made a pitying sort of face. 

“Yeah, exactly, but Scorpius is happy enough.”

“And Draco thought a professional-grade broomstick probably costing more than a thousand Galleons was appropriate?”

“I guess,” I said, shrugging and not failing to notice my dad rolling his eyes. “But it’s great, Dad. The best. Flies like a dream and outstrips Lily’s Comet and James’s old Starsweeper like nothing.”

“You’re flying, then?” My dad had turned more to face me. He actually looked intrigued.

“Sometimes,” I said. 

“Scorpius lets you use his broom?” 

“Yes, and we fly together.”

“How do you keep up?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you fly together. You’re borrowing a school broom, right? Old Cleansweeps outstripped if you look at them the wrong way were the only brooms around when I was in school.” 

“Er, no, I don’t use the school brooms,” I said. My dad seemed thoroughly confused. “We ride the Varápidos together.”

My dad looked slightly bemused. I shifted a little in my wooden chair. 

“Do–do you want a new broom, Albus?” 

“What?” I asked, a little taken aback. “Me?”

“Yeah,” my dad said. “Do you want me to buy you a new broom? An early birthday present? Probably not a professional broomstick, you mother would murder me...” 

“I don’t need a new broom, Dad.”

“Would you like me to send you your broom at home? So you don’t have to keep using your friend’s?”

“No, I like using his,” I said. “He lets me have a go whenever I want.”

“But if you have your own broom, then you can fly at the same time and not have to share.” 

I thought about it. 

“No, I like how things are now.”

My dad sighed. 

“Thank you, though,” I said. “For the offer.” My dad nodded. I could tell we were slipping back into an awkward silence. 

“Maybe I could use some gloves for flying?” I suggested. My dad perked up almost immediately. “It gets cold up there, especially when you’re going really fast. My fingers get so numb that sometimes I have to stick my hands under Scorpius’s robes—” I stopped chuckling at the look on my dad’s face. He was regarding me strangely. 

I took another swig of my Butterbeer. 

“Sure, Al,” my dad said. “I can get you some new gloves.” 

We left the Three Broomsticks, but not before we had the barman procure a bottled Butterbeer to take with me, and headed out to explore the rest of the village. So determined to avoid other students and reject anything my dad suggested, I’d never been to Hogsmeade. But it turned out that it wasn’t half bad. My dad took me to a shop called Gladrags Wizardwear, and I picked out a really sleek pair of black leather flying gloves. 

We went to Honeydukes after and left with an entire crate full of sweets and my dad’s money bag considerably lighter. We divvied up the sweets outside and vowed to never tell my mum. Because my dad could only carry so much in his robe pockets without arousing suspicion at home, I offered to owl him rations of fudge throughout the year. We continued up the high street and visited Zonko’s Joke Shop as well as a post office. We passed by a horrid looking tea place called Madam Puddifoot’s, and after cringing at the frills, doilies, and heart-shaped decor just visible beyond the steamy windows, we burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. 

“That’s the stupidest place I’ve ever seen,” I said, snorting with laughter and almost dropping my Honeydukes crate, to-go bottle of Butterbeer, and Gladrags bag. “Scorpius would probably love it.”

“It’s worse inside, trust me,” my dad said, waving his wand and charming my crate so that it hovered in the air. 

The last place we visited was Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop. My crate bobbing behind me as I perused the shelves, I picked out a couple of new quills: a black owl-feather one for me, and a silver pheasant-feather one for Scorpius. My dad paid for them and the shopkeeper wrapped each one in a velvet box. 

After my dad and I both agreed that I’d been thoroughly spoiled and our time together had not been a total catastrophe, we parted ways at the entrance to Hogwarts. Clutching the Butterbeer and shopping bags, I headed to the dungeons, my crate still floating alongside me. I was pleased to find Scorpius reading on one of the ornate chaises in the common room and nudged him over to sit beside him, shuffling my bags onto my lap and letting my crate land with a thud onto the floor. 

“Here,” I said, uncorking the Butterbeer and handing it to him. I rummaged through my bags and pulled out the box containing the pheasant-feather quill. I handed it to Scorpius, who ran his fingers across the velvet encasing. 

“Oi!” I exclaimed, noticing a younger Slytherin starting to rifle through my Honeydukes sweets. I kicked my leg at him. “That’s not a communal crate! Get out of here.” The younger student glared at me and then backed off. I pulled the crate closer to us and picked out some wrapped fudge.

“Can you believe these people?” I asked Scorpius, placing a couple pieces on his lap. 

Scorpius wasn’t paying attention. He had opened the velvet box and was looking at his new quill inside. 

“Oh, Albus Severus Potter—” 

“Don’t start,” I said while trying to chew through a thick chunk of fudge. 

“—you are as sweet as the confections you so boldly enjoy.”

“Please stop talking.”

He rested his head on my shoulder and continued to admire his quill while he unwrapped his own piece of fudge. I settled more comfortably against the chaise and propped my feet on the edge of my crate, deciding that my good behavior earned me a little nap.

* * *

Scorpius woke me just in time to head down to the Halloween Feast. We took our usual seats in the Great Hall and admired all of the decorations. Live bats were sweeping below the enchanted ceiling, which was a deep blue smattered with stars. Candles floated all around us and hundreds of pumpkins, as small as apples to as large as boulders, sat on tables and the floor. Hagrid sat at a table placed in the far corner with several medium-sized pumpkins and an assortment of carving instruments. He waved happily when he saw us. 

Meat, sides, soups, and delicious-looking desserts appeared on the golden plates before us in no time. We ate bacon-wrapped sausages and baked potatoes and banoffee pie. Halfway through dinner a troupe of dancing skeletons brandishing canes did several jovial numbers between the tables. 

After everyone had eaten second and third helpings, students and staff began to mingle. Louis came over and sat with us, as did Lily, bringing with her Nearly-Headless Nick, who she’d befriended her second year. Rose stopped by and said hello, causing Scorpius to accidentally place his elbow in some pudding in his eagerness to greet her. She didn’t stay at our table for long, though. James and Fred brought over a jar with several spiders, which they let loose among our plates and goblets, sending several people away, including Rose, who looked petrified. At one point, Horatio slid down to our side of the table and offered me a sip of red currant rum from a tumbler he had. I politely refused, and when I turned back to Scorpius he was looking at me curiously. 

We joined Hagrid some time later and carved grins and snarls into pumpkins. I shook my head at Scorpius when he showed me his finished product: a pumpkin with a toothy grin, round glasses, and a lightning bolt scar. We stuck a candle in it and gave it to Hagrid, who, perhaps because he was on his third mulled mead since we arrived, teared up a bit. 

We were having such a decent time that we didn’t mind it so much when Polly said something rude as she passed or when Karl tried (but failed) to trip us when we walked by. 

At nine, McGonagall announced that the feast was over but no one left the Great Hall until ten when she finally clapped her hands, reminded us that we had classes the next day, and extinguished all of the floating candles. Scorpius and I fought through the throng of people in the dark, stepping on several toes and mumbling countless apologies, and eventually made it out and down to the dungeons. Slytherins from all years decided to continue the party in the common room. Tadgh and Alan seemed to be leading the celebrations as they were singing and passing around stolen goblets and a flagon of pumpkin juiced spiked with Firewhisky. Everyone was in such high spirits that even I had to admit I was enjoying myself and took a sip of the pumpkin juice from Alan’s goblet. 

Stressing that he was tired, Scorpius pulled me into our already-dark room. We got ready for bed even though we could still hear people laughing and singing outside. Even though he was just complaining about his exhaustion, Scorpius wasn’t falling asleep. From my bed, I heard him tossing and turning. I realized also that he hadn’t told me goodnight but rather slipped behind his hangings without a word. I pushed off my covers and padded over to him, holding my wand and muttering _Lumos_ so that I could see. 

“Scorpius?” I said, pulling his hangings back. “You made me turn in early and you’re not even sleeping.” He looked at me and I could tell immediately that something was wrong. 

His eyes were rimmed red and his nose was pink, as if he’d been crying and trying to stifle it. He also looked paler than usual. I placed my lit wand on his nightstand and sat on the edge of his bed. 

“What’s the matter?”

He sat up and rubbed at his eyes. 

“I’ve got a lot of thoughts swimming around here,” he sniffled, tapping on the side of his head with his index finger. “Dark ones.”

“About last year?” I asked. My brain had drifted there several times today. 

He nodded. 

“Me too,” I said.

“How do you stop thinking about everything?” 

I closed my eyes and images flashed behind my eyelids. Delphi. Craig. Voldemort killing my grandparents. My dad’s face. 

“I’m not sure I ever do,” I admitted. 

“For me, the worst of it all was the other world.”

“The Scorpion King reality?” 

He nodded and then covered his face with his hands.

“The No-Albus reality.”

I scooted closer to him and pulled his hands away from his face. 

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m here. You fixed everything.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, sniffling again. “I’ve just been thinking more and more about last year. Keeping myself busy these last weeks has helped, but I know that tonight is going to be just _awful_. My nightmares have gotten less frequent, but I just know tonight they’ll come back. And I’ll see Voldemort again and my dad will be doing evil things and I’ll be encouraging it and you won’t even exist. 

“And that’s the worst part of all. No you. Knowing that there’s an Albus Potter but not being able to reach him, to talk to him. I was so alone, Albus. And you just… weren’t there. It was like I was missing an arm. Or torso.”

I stared at him, not knowing what to say. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again. I shifted closer. 

“Don’t be,” I said. “And tonight doesn’t have to be awful.” 

He raised one eyebrow. 

“That sounded a lot less suggestive in my head,” I said. Scorpius laughed and pulled back his coverlet and made some room for me. I lied down next to him and drew his hangings shut, leaving only a crack to allow some of the _Lumos_ light to creep in.

“My night’s looking better already,” he said with a wink. 

“Shut up,” I told him. He laughed again. 

“Tell me something,” I said. “Let’s talk about something else. Tell me about your mum.”

“My mum?”

“Yeah, let’s talk about her. What was her favorite color?”

Scorpius beamed at me. I listened to him talk about Astoria’s favorite color (periwinkle), animal (dachshunds), flower (tulips), and food (raspberry financiers). He gushed about her book collection and retold her jokes. He even sang me some of the songs she’d made up when he was a child. 

“Tell me something, Albus,” he said, practically breathless from going on about his mum. 

“Can I ask you something instead?” 

“Sure.”

I looked at him, just barely able to make out his face by the light at the end of my wand on the nightstand behind me. 

“Have I been… a less terrible friend lately?” 

“I’m sorry I said that,” Scorpius said. He sounded sad again. “I was angry.”

“It was true,” I said. 

“But it was hurtful. You’re my best friend. The best friend. And you’ve been loads better.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know.” He pulled me in for a hug, and was quiet for a minute. Contemplative, perhaps. “Honestly? I wouldn’t change you.” 

“I would.”

Scorpius shushed me and hugged me tighter before whispering goodnight in my ear. It was a long time before I made it back to my own bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels weird to be writing about Halloween just after Christmas. 
> 
> Also, Scorpius totally has a bullet journal.


	5. Chapter Five

With November came teeth-chattering winds and the first snow. The walks to Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology were almost unbearable because it was so cold, and even in humid Greenhouse Three, the brittle air managed to creep through the glass and leave everyone shivering. 

My birthday came with not much fanfare but a quiet evening free of Prefect duties and full of Exploding Snap, which I preferred. My parents owled me a letter and few more smaller gifts. James gave me about thirty Chocolate Frogs (which I added to the Honeydukes crate under my bed), and Lily gave me a green and silver scarf she’d knitted. Best of all, Scorpius gave me a beautiful moving model of the solar system. He pointed out all the moons and constellations (“Look Albus, there I am!”) and, with a dreamy look in his eye, gushed about how we’d never have to review for Astronomy again.

Older students had their first Hogsmeade trip in December just before the Christmas holiday. When we turned on the high street that housed most of the shops, Scorpius grabbed my wrist in excitement so hard that it was painful. We went into nearly every store, and when our noses were frozen and our cheeks numb, we went into the Three Broomsticks for a drink. 

The inn that day was so much more crowded than when I came with my dad. Students were everywhere and I felt a familiar anxiety start to build as we pushed through the throng of students, some staff, and local villagers. We found an empty table near a fireplace and claimed it. I told Scorpius to wait while I went to the bar to order us some Butterbeer. When I returned with two hot, foaming mugs. Louis was at our table with a pretty girl with strawberry-blonde hair. 

“Cheers, Al,” he said, raising his own mug. The girl smiled shyly at me before taking a sip from her own mug. “This is Poline,” said Louis, putting his hand on the girl’s shoulder. I placed the mugs on the table and shook her outstretched hand. 

“Good to meet you,” I said. 

“Likewise.” 

Poline was in Sixth Year with Louis, a Ravenclaw Prefect, and very shy. She hardly spoke while Scorpius and I talked to Louis about the Slytherin-Ravenclaw Quidditch match that just taken place (Slytherin beat Ravenclaw, a team fresh off a ten-point victory over Gryffindor) but perked up when I mentioned having to go into the cold Forbidden Forest during my last Care of Magical Creatures class. Louis interjected to say that Poline was an animal lover and took Hagrid’s class very seriously. After that, she seemed more at ease and piped up more often. 

Scorpius and Louis were debating the best beaches in France and I had just taken a hearty gulp from my mug when Poline motioned to me. 

“You’ve got a little, um—” she said, pointing to her upper lip. Before I could fully register the foamy mustache left by my drink, Scorpius had turned to look from his seat beside me, reached up, and brushed the froth from my upper lip with his thumb before resuming his conversation with Louis. 

Poline looked at me and then at Scorpius, who, while still listening to Louis harp on about Kerlouan, had the pad of the thumb that had just been on my mouth now in between his teeth, and then back at me. Her eyes, which I first thought looked so kind and innocent, glinted knowingly as she grinned. My face heating up, I suddenly became very aware of the proximity of Scorpius; how our elbows brushed with every movement while we chatted and how our chairs were so close together that I could feel his leg jiggling next to mine. 

Poline must have sensed that I was feeling suddenly uncomfortable because she stopped smiling. Her eyebrows were raised in concern and her face looked almost apologetic. I looked away and pretended that I saw something interesting at the bar. 

I don’t know why I felt so uneasy. Scorpius and I really weren’t behaving any differently than usual. Okay, so he had never touched my mouth before, but I wouldn’t say it felt out of place. Poline’s smile, though, while not malicious by any means or even intentionally teasing, made me feel self-conscious about it all. Like there was something secretive or shameful about what had just occurred. 

I watched the rest of the inn’s occupants while I tried to subtly move my chair to the right and away from Scorpius. Not long after, though, I felt his knee reclaim the space against mine. I moved again. I saw Polly, Karl, and Yann come in and head toward the bar, Yann’s hand on Polly’s waist. I gave silent thanks to Louis for sitting with us. Karl wouldn’t think to come over with him here. Louis wasn’t intimidating at all, but his good looks and intelligence, together with his general nonchalance, worked as a bully repellant. Scorpius and I were probably cooler by association just by sitting with him. 

Our drinks finished and warming our insides, the four of us decided to leave the Three Broomsticks and venture again to the shops outside. Scorpius held on to my elbow as we weaved through the crowd, and I caught Karl’s eye. He made a kissy face at me, which made angry for reasons I didn’t quite understand. Didn’t I just tell Scorpius that I didn’t care what Karl thought about me or him or us? 

As we walked the snowy path, Louis and Poline a few steps ahead, Scorpius touched my cheek with his cold hand. 

“I should’ve brought my gloves!” he said, laughing. “My fingers are frozen!”

I jerked my head away from him.

“Will you stop touching me?” I snapped. Scorpius looked like I slapped him. 

“Okay,” he said quietly. He shoved his hands in his pockets and didn’t look at or talk to me as we resumed walking up the path and stepped into Dervish and Banges. 

The shop was full of magical instruments, some of which whirred or made loud banging noises. Determined to be as far away from me as possible, Scorpius made for the back of the shop as soon as we crossed the threshold and busied himself with looking at a barrel full of various Dark Detectors. 

“I’m sorry if I offended you earlier,” Poline said softly. She’d come to stand next to me while I pretended to be interested in a shelf full of Pocket Sneakoscopes. 

“Oh, you didn’t,” I said, not entirely convincing myself. 

“I just thought,” she said, lowering her voice, “that I made you angry by assuming…” I whipped my head around to look at her. 

“Assuming what?” 

“You know what.” 

“It’s not like that,” I said gruffly. “He’s my best mate.”

“Okay,” Poline said, giving me a sympathetic sort of smile. 

“Scorpius would never—” I looked at him, chatting again with Louis while they stood at the register. “He likes my cousin.” Poline looked over at Scorpius and Louis and raised her eyebrows. 

“Not Louis,” I said. “Rose.”

“Oh,” said Poline, laughing. “That makes more sense.” She frowned. “Less sense, actually.” 

“What d’you mean?” 

“Well, I thought he liked—” 

“Ready to go?” Louis had come up behind us, a shopping bag in his hand. We walked back outside and toward the castle. The anticipation of visiting the village fully worn off, the trek back was blustery and cold and not fun at all, especially since Scorpius seemed to not want to talk to me. Or perhaps he was too scared to. I regretted snapping at him, and wondered to myself why I had, finally reasoning that we were made fun of enough already and didn’t need to add fuel to the fire.

* * *

The awkwardness of the afternoon lingered well into the evening. Conveniently, Scorpius had an end-of-term Prefects meeting and missed dinner and the time we usually spent sitting around the common room. He came back to the dorm just as I was getting ready for bed and after I had made painful chit chat with Alan and Tadgh, both of whom had grown significantly warmer toward the only two blokes with access to a Varápidos. 

“Hi,” I said, sitting on the edge of my bed. 

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry for earlier,” I said lamely. I played with a string hanging from the hem of my t-shirt. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, going through his trunk and stacking next to his bed things he wanted to bring home with him the next day. “Received and totally understood.” I’m not sure anything was understood. 

“Meeting good?” I tried appealing to his interests. 

“Yes,” he said curtly. “I asked Rose to go with me to Hogsmeade in February.” My stomach dropped, though I wasn’t sure why. 

“What did she say?”

“She said yes.” I saw his mouth twitch into a smile before he excused himself to shower. 

I was still sitting on my bed when he returned, cleaned and clad in his usual midnight blue pajamas. He got into his bed and closed his hangings. I sat on my own bed, staring at the green fabric and wondering when he was going to tell me goodnight. 

“‘Night,” I said into the growing darkness of our dorm, hoping that Scorpius would remember our new tradition. When the only ones who answered me were Alan and Tadgh, I closed my own hangings and tried to go to sleep.

* * *

Scorpius was pleasant enough the next morning but sat on the opposite side of the table, which he never did. I found the lack of person on my left side so strange that I felt that I had too much elbow room. Whatever the opposite of claustrophobic was, I was feeling it. 

After breakfast, we all headed for the train station. Marching through the cold with the rest of the student body, I desperately missed a warm hand on my shoulder or an arm linked through mine. With our trunks being brought separately, I was able to sling my bag over my arm and tuck my hands into the pockets of my robes, at least. 

The train was warm, thankfully, and we climbed into the last compartment, as usual. Since this was the last time we would see each other until holidays were over, and because I wasn’t keen on a silent multi-hour train ride, I tried to relieve the tension. 

“Scorpius, I—”

“Sorry, Albus, but I should really get to the Prefects’ compartment.”

“What could you possibly have to meet about before Christmas?”

“I don’t make the rules, Albus,” he said, pulling a book and his wand from his bag. As if he was planning on reading leisurely there. 

He started for the compartment door, but I caught his hand.

“Listen—” I said. He briefly glanced down to where I was holding on to him. “I didn’t mean—”

“Albus, it’s not a problem,” he said, his smile not genuine in the slightest. “I get it.”

“I don’t think you do.” He tugged his hand away. 

“You said that you didn’t care what other people thought, but that isn’t the case. Even when the other people are nice to us. Even when there’s nothing to think.”

“I don’t care, I swear—”

“It’s okay,” he said again. “Maybe we don’t need to give people any more reason to laugh at us.”

If that sounded pathetic when I thought it, it sounded even more pathetic said aloud.

“Scorpius, I don’t give a—”

“You obviously do!” He was halfway out the door and looking agitated. “I thought that maybe… but I guess… you know, it doesn’t matter.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose and looking pained while he tried to get words out. 

He had completely lost me. 

“I’ll see you later,” he said, and he closed the compartment door behind him.

* * *

I searched my brain through the entire lonely train ride on why Scorpius and I were having a minor fight. I was quiet on the trip home and even quieter throughout dinner knowing that the last goodbye I shared with my best friend before a weeks of not seeing each other was nothing more than a departing wave at King's Cross. 

All the progress we’d made that term and the last in the bin. 

I sulked through the next few days so blatantly that my mum, exasperated, pulled me aside to ask me what was wrong. 

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think, whatever it is,” she said, rubbing my back as we stood in the kitchen. I had refused to elaborate on the situation after admitting that Scorpius didn’t want to talk to me and was acting distant. 

My mum waved her wand and dishes that had just been washed and dried by Lily began flying into the cupboards where they belonged. 

“I don't know what’s wrong with me,” I said. “One minute, I don’t have a care in the world and I’m something close to happy, and then the next I’m moody and angry again, and I’m hurting people because of it.” 

I watched my mum ruminate over what I just told her, turning my words over in her head and trying to decipher the whole picture based on just a few statements from me. 

“I’ve been trying to be a better friend,” I supplied. “But I keep messing up.” I felt tears form in my eyes and looked away in embarrassment. My mum put her hands on my face and turned me back toward her. I was taller than she was, so I had to look down. She wore a soft smile. 

“Al, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re sixteen. You’re going to say the wrong thing and do things you don’t entirely understand and react in ways that don’t really make sense. But I promise you that you’re a good friend. And this weirdness with Scorpius will resolve itself, you’ll see.”

Her words comforted me a little. 

“So I can just blame my stupid teenager brain?” 

“And other parts of you, yes,” she laughed. I blushed. 

“You _are_ moody,” she said. I frowned. “But you’re also sweet and sensitive. Write to Scorpius. Apologize. Clarify.” She worried her lip with her teeth. “Do you want to invite him over for Christmas?”

I would love to have Scorpius over for Christmas, but I knew that Draco wouldn’t want to spend the holidays with us and that Scorpius wouldn’t leave his dad alone. I told my mum the same and she agreed. 

After hugging my mum and promising her that I’d give her all the details on the Varápidos later, I went upstairs to write a letter. 

I wasted several sheets of parchment trying to put my thoughts down in a way that didn’t make me sound like a total arsehole. More than once I found my quill writing something along the lines of “I like that you touch me,” but every time I read it back to myself or imagined Scorpius reading it I got extremely uncomfortable. 

I finally ended up with something halfway satisfactory and figured it would have to do:

_Scorpius,_

_I hope your holiday is going well. We didn’t get to talk much on the train, so I was hoping I could tell you some things here._

_First, I’m sorry I was short with you in Hogsmeade. You don’t deserve that._

_Second, I’d really like for things to go back to normal between us. Not normal-normal, but Scorpius-Albus normal. You know what I mean. I don’t know what came over me, but I promise that nothing you do is wrong or bad. I like everything you do, and I don’t care if that sounds weird._

_I miss you. Please write me. Tell your dad hello for me._

_Albus_

I sent the letter off with our owl, and the next day, Christmas Eve, I received a response and a parcel. I ran upstairs from the living room window sill to read it. 

_Albus,_

_Happy Christmas!_

_I really regret hiding from you on the train and before that. I thought I had made you angry, and then I felt embarrassed. I may have been a bit snotty afterward, and for that I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel a mess and confused all the time. But I don’t want to bore you… so please enjoy your gift!_

_I’ll see you in January._

_Love,_

_Scorpius_

I felt the heaviness that had been sitting in my heart lighten immediately. I scanned the words again, pausing at Scorpius’s admission of confusion (about what, I’m not sure) and relating wholeheartedly at his feeling like a mess. I tucked the letter safely away in my drawer next to the others and opened the parcel. 

Inside was an enchanted razor in packaging promising the closest, smoothest shave possible. Touching my chin, I wondered if Scorpius had noticed that the wild hair on my head was starting to sprout on my face. Wrapped in paper next to the the razor were various jars and tubs. Their labels were in French, but my rudimentary understanding of the language made me suspect that Scorpius had sent me hair products and perhaps shaving balm. The last thing tucked in the parcel and wrapped in more paper was a small bottle of cologne, also from France. I sprayed a little into the air and sniffed. It was woodsy with a very slight smokiness. Not bad. I made a mental note to ask Aunt Fleur what the labels on everything said. 

I used our owl to send Scorpius one more letter, thanking him for the gift and jokingly asking if he questioned my grooming habits. I also sent his Christmas present, which my dad had suggested and I picked out: a broom servicing kit in a black leather bag. I used a good portion of my pocket money to buy the best one, and my dad assured me that anyone with a broom as good as Scorpius’s would love and need such a kit. 

My happy mood continued through the Christmas holiday and the days after. We spent a good number of days at the Burrow, where I avoided Rose and reunited with all of my other family members (and confirmed with the French-speaking ones that I had in fact received hair mousse, styling crème, a buttery aftershave, and a very pricey vetiver-scented cologne). 

Among the topics discussed at the Burrow mealtimes were Molly’s new job in New York City for MACUSA and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione’s vow renewal. Everyone was eager to discuss the upcoming party while we sat throughout the house, some of us at the elongated kitchen table and others scattered in the sitting room, scullery, and my mum’s old bedroom on the first floor. It was too cold to sit outside, so we were very cramped. 

“Can I bring a date, Aunt Hermione?” James, who was sitting next to me in the kitchen, had asked through a hearty bite of beef casserole. 

“And who exactly would you be bringing?” my mum asked, peering down the table at my brother. Lily, who was sitting on my other side, also looked interested. 

“Don’t know yet,” James said, shrugging. “Whaddya say, Aunt Hermione?” Aunt Hermione, seated next to my mum further down, poked at her salad in thought. 

“No dates,” said my mum for her. “You’re trying to keep it just family, right?” Aunt Hermione nodded. 

“I’m trying to keep the public out as much as possible,” she said apologetically. “I don’t want the press there or anyone who could compromise the Statute of Secrecy.”

“Can’t be scaring off the Muggles,” said Uncle Ron. He was keen these days to go along with what Aunt Hermione wanted as he was trying to make up for the not-so-sober ceremony they had years ago. Apparently, most of Hermione’s non-magical family would be guests. 

James looked dejected but only momentarily; My grandmother had brought out a pudding. 

I chewed my food and listened to everyone talk about the party and what they might wear and the details of the ceremony. Uncle Percy tried unsuccessfully to resurrect the conversation about his daughter's new ministry job abroad, and James and Uncle Ron took their pudding out to the sitting room where my dad and more uncles were drinking. Others started to leave the kitchen as well, including Uncle Percy after Lily gave an exaggerated yawn halfway through his lecture on international magical cooperation. My mum and Aunt Hermione were turned toward each other and in a hushed conversation of their own, and my grandmother continued doling dessert onto Aunt Fleur’s plate. Not engaged in anyone’s chat and not yet ready to venture out to other areas of the house, I helped myself to some more pudding. 

“Al?” 

I looked up from my dessert and saw that Aunt Hermione had taken James’s empty seat. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything illegal or life-threatening before your party,” I said. “I can’t promise anything during it, though.” She smiled at me. 

“I know we’ve said no extra guests,” she said, and her eyes darted toward a group of my cousins laughing near the fireplace in the sitting room. “But you can bring someone if you’d like.” 

“Really?” I said, wiping my mouth with my napkin. 

She nodded and squeezed my shoulder before turning back toward those remaining at the table. 

“So I was thinking smoked salmon for the main course at the ceremony,” said my grandmother. “And perhaps a crab salad?” I saw Aunt Fleur nod in agreement.

“Langoustines might be in season—”

“No seafood!” I blurted out. Scorpius hated fish. My mum, aunts, and grandmother looked at me. Lily laughed. 

“And why not?” asked my mum, holding back a laugh of her own.

“Er, I just don’t care for it?” I tried, hoping my mum would forget the time I discovered sushi and sashimi London and begged for it all summer a couple years ago. I shoved another bite of pudding into my mouth. 

“Lamb is always a great choice in the spring,” chimed my Aunt Hermione, shooting me a subtle wink. “My parents love a good lamb.” And that was that.

* * *

Scorpius found me in our usual compartment at the back of the train at the end of the holidays in early January. He threw his bag on the seat, and before he could plop down next to me, I jumped up and pulled him into a hug.

“Oh, hello,” he said, amused. He seemed hesitant to hug me back until I gripped him tighter, trying to put every way to say _I’m sorry_ into my touch. When he finally put his arms around me, his hands coming to rest on my shoulder blades and clutch the fabric of my shirt there, I became overwhelmed with a barrage of emotions. 

How could I have pushed this away? This contact, the feel of him. And when had I started to crave it? Need it? Scorpius leaned against the wall to steady himself and pulled me with him. I molded against him too easily. And I noticed that if I moved my head a bit, angled it closer to him, my nose would be brushing the pulse point in his neck. So I did just that. 

I wondered if it was Scorpius’s body I wanted to touch—and have touching me—or just a body to touch. Was it his hands or his smell or his warmth that I ached for, or could have anyone who showed me the slightest bit of positive attention slipped into that role? And if it was anyone, any body, why did I suddenly imagine Scorpius slipping into me? 

The train compartment rocked as we chugged forward, and Scorpius and I stumbled slightly. 

“You smell good,” he murmured, and I was pulled out of my thoughts. 

“Thanks to you,” I said into his neck, my lips barely missing the skin there. I had sprayed the cologne in my room this morning and walked through the mist. 

“Not that you smelled bad before,” he added. “Did you like your gift? I loved mine.”

“Yes,” I said, as I reluctantly detached myself from him and sat down. “Very much. Although I’m wondering if my hair is really that bad.” Scorpius laughed. 

“It’s fine, but you’re always complaining about it,” he said. “The lady in the shop showed me how to use the products. She tried selling me loads of other jars, stuff for texture and thickness. I told her you were good there.” My mind drifted somewhere inappropriate. 

“I haven’t tried the crème or mousse yet,” I admitted. 

“Do you have them here, or are they with your trunk?”

“Here,” I said, revealing that I’d brought his gifts on the train ride, where I wouldn’t even need them. 

Scorpius picked up my bag from the seat and looked through it before pulling out a jar. 

“Can we see what it’s like?” he asked. 

“Sure.” We had nothing else to do on the ride.

Scorpius unscrewed the lid and dipped two fingers in. I watched as he scooped out some crème and heard him read the instructions on the label. He translated for me but I wasn’t paying enough attention to actually register his words. I was too mesmerized by the shiny crème coating his fingertips.

He came to stand before me and handed me the jar. He slid his hands together, transferring the crème between one and the other and emitting slick sounds as he did so, and then bent down and threaded his fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes involuntarily and prayed that he wouldn’t notice. I fumbled with the jar, thankful that I had something to hold onto to stop me from grabbing the backs of his legs. 

I sighed contentedly as he continued working through my locks and narrating what he was doing. But I could hardly hear him over the sound of my rapidly hammering heart and racing thoughts. So this is what it was like to fancy your best friend. To let go of all you’d been repressing, knowingly or not. To long for his touch and feel elation at nothing more than his hands on any and every cell of your body. 

I opened my eyes and looked up. I saw his Adam’s apple and curve of his jaw. I wondered what it would be like to be under him in another context. To watch sweat form on his neck or see the dips in his collarbone hollow and fill as he moved above me. To have his mouth, which was pursed in concentration, hover over mine, open and hot... 

“All done,” he said. I lightly patted my hair, imagining it looked more manageable. I watched him wipe his hands on his pants and then pull out a book from his own bag before sitting next me. 

I sat there and looked out the window, not upset or sad. But not fully content either. If anything, I was simply in thought. About how Scorpius stirred in me something that I had never felt. About my hunger, my thirst, what I had been yearning for, and how seemingly insatiable it all was. The feelings that had just days ago perplexed and frustrated me were now clear: I’d long been harboring an intense desire for my only friend that could never be openly admitted or else I’d lose the best thing in my life. Shit.

The next few hours would go as expected. We’d ride the rest of the commute together, broken up only momentarily for a Prefects’ meeting, and I’d listen to Scorpius talk about his holiday, and we’d plan to use the kit on his broomstick when we got to our dorm. We’d ignore the knocks of the Trolley Witch and split food we’d brought instead. Scorpius would take a nap and I’d sit quietly next to him, cushioning his head with my shoulder while hoping against hope that my newfound feelings wouldn’t ruin anything, and telling myself to maybe one day admit everything but not expect similar affection in return and be okay with it. We’d reach Hogwarts and travel together to the castle, and later that night, as I drifted off to sleep, I’d silently vow to make this term for Scorpius a good one, no matter the emotional cost. Because that’s what love was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone.


	6. Chapter Six

I figured that getting on with my life as usual after admitting to myself that I cared for Scorpius far more than what was usual for best mates wouldn’t be too hard if I just avoided looking at him, listening to him, or being anywhere near him. But since none of those things were possible, and since I wasn’t willing to put myself through any misery even if they were, I kept him close and my true feelings closer. 

My attraction to him, and blokes in general, I guess, had bubbled up into consciousness. I started really appreciating things I had only noticed before, such as how Scorpius gave a little eye roll whenever I swore or how his forearms flexed, the muscles there creasing, when he wrestled a thrashing plant in Herbology back into its pot. How he sang to himself while doing his Arithmancy homework. How he showed me that he noticed I was using my hair products by tugging on some strands and smiling, unknowingly sending my brain into a tailspin. How he held the cork in his mouth while, brow furrowed, he scribbled our names on a vial in Potions before stoppering it. The way his clothes fit his body, from his collared shirt and tie to his tight trousers and shiny black oxfords. 

I got through each day by reminding myself that there was never going to be anything more between me and Scorpius, and the sooner I accepted that, the easier life would be.

 

Halfway through January I had begun panicking about Scorpius’s upcoming birthday. I hadn’t bought him anything, mostly because I couldn’t think of what to buy but also because I’d spent nearly all of my money on his Christmas gift. I didn’t want to ask my parents for any gold, and they’d know if I dipped into my savings, so with his birthday only a couple days away, I turned to Lily for advice. 

“Make him something,” she said simply. 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know, Al,” she said, exasperated. I had squeezed myself between her and a friend at the Gryffindor table during lunch after Scorpius had left for the library. “A card. A macaroni necklace. Anything. He’ll love whatever you get him.” 

“Hmm.” I stole a sandwich from her plate and took a bite. Lily’s eyes were tightly closed and she was tapping her mouth with her index finger, apparently in thought. 

“I’ve got it!” she said, slapping her hand down on the table and making her plate clatter. “Bake him something!” 

“Er, what?”

“Bake him something, Al,” she said again. “You’ve baked and cooked with Dad before. Your biscuits are good. Does Scorpius like sweets?”

“Ha!” I said. “‘Does Scorpius like sweets?’ Sweets are his favorite things.”

“Besides you,” Lily said, nudging me with her elbow. 

I nudged her back. I wished.

I recalled all of the sweets Scorpius liked. And then I remembered our conversation about his mum and her favorite dessert. A plan was starting to formulate in my head, a simple but good idea that could possibly work if I could get it together in time.

“Thanks, Lily,” I said, swinging around in my seat and jumping up. “Gotta run.” I took a sliced pickle from her plate, avoiding her pricking me with her fork, and went down to the dungeons. I walked passed the empty Potions classroom and straight to Professor Verity’s office and rapped on the door, hoping she was in there. When I heard a “Come in!” I opened the door and stepped inside. 

Professor Verity was sitting at her desk and reading The Quibbler. The wall behind her was lined with various glass jars filled with different colored liquids. On her desk was a framed photo of a man and a little girl, and next to the frame was a tray of various eyeballs. A couple torches hung on the walls, saving the dungeon room from complete darkness. 

“Mr. Potter,” Professor Verity said brightly. “How can I help you?” 

I hung by the door. I saw what I had been looking for just to the left of Professor Verity’s desk. 

“Er—”

“Sit down, sit down,” she said, and she waved her wand so that a high-backed chair with a purple cushion flew from one side of the room to just in front of her desk. I walked over and took a seat. 

“Eyeball? I’ve got rodent and… frog.” I gave a look of disgust and she laughed. “You’ve never visited my office, have you?” 

“I have, but you weren’t my professor,” I said, recalling an incident in Second Year when I had caused a fire in the Charms classroom and was sent to my then Head of House, who was also the Potions professor. I briefly wondered if most of the Potions professors throughout history were head of Slytherin. I’d have to ask Scorpius. 

“So what can I do for you? Surely you’re not here for help with Potions. You and Mr. Malfoy made an excellent Calming Draught this week—” 

“No,” I said. Looking again to the left of her desk. “I was wondering if you could help me with a personal matter.” She pushed her magazine away and rested her chin on her hand. 

“Oh?”

“I need to borrow your fireplace,” I said while looking at it. There was already a small, crackling fire in the firebox. “I need to talk to my grandmother.”

“Anything the matter?” Professor Verity asked, already getting up from her desk and walking toward the mantle. She picked up a small bowl and peered inside it. 

“No, I just need to talk to her and writing would take too long.” 

Professor Verity motioned for me to join her and after I did, she handed me the bowl, which was filled with Floo Powder. 

“I’ll leave you alone for minute, yeah?” I smiled appreciatively. Professor Verity took her Quibbler and left through the door. 

I took some of the silvery powder from the bowl and threw it onto the logs. The flames turned emerald green at once. I plunged my head in and, trying not to inhale any soot, said, “The Burrow!”

I heard a _whoosh_ as the flames licked at my ears and hundreds of grates flickered in and out of view at a rapid pace. I closed my eyes, trying to avoid any further ash getting stuck in my lashes. When the rushing around my head came to a halt, I opened my eyes and saw that I was looking into my grandparents’ sitting room. It was empty, but I could hear water running in the kitchen and a cacophony of clanging. 

“Gran?” I heard more clanging. “GRAN!” I heard the faucet shut off and feet scurrying closer. I saw my grandmother come into view as she peered around the kitchen entryway and toward the fireplace. When she saw my head suspended in the flames, she smiled. And then frowned. 

“Albus, what’s the matter?” Her greying hair was pulled back and her eyebrows were turned up in concern. 

“Nothing!” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “I just need help with something.”

“Oh?”

My grandmother wiped her hands on her apron and looked down at me, her face still full of concern.

“I need a recipe,” I said. I saw her let out a breath, no doubt glad that something terrible hadn’t happened at Hogwarts and I was the only Weasley left to deliver the startling news. “I need to know how to make raspberry financiers.”

My grandmother smiled fondly before lifting up her finger in a signal to wait. She walked back toward the kitchen and, presumably, began searching. She came back with a folded piece of parchment and crouched down so she was at my level. 

“School project, dear?”

“Something like that.”

“Take this,” she said, and she shoved the parchment between my lips. I was grateful not only for her endless culinary knowledge but that she didn’t ask too many questions. 

“Tanks Gran,” I said, the folded paper between my teeth. “I lo’ you.” She patted my head and waved me off. 

I whipped my head out of the fire, and checking first to make sure the green flames hadn’t burnt any of the recipe, I pocketed the parchment. I left the office, catching Professor Verity out in the hall on the way and thanking her profusely.

* * *

It was hard to find time alone the next day because it was a Sunday and Scorpius had little to do other than study and eat with me. After dinner, when I could no longer hold off preparing for his birthday the following day, I made up a lie and said I needed to check on some Bowtruckles for Care of Magical Creatures. He was halfway asking if he could come down to Hagrid’s hut with me before I bolted out the dormitory door and promised to catch up with him later, trying to avoid the look of obvious disappointment on his face. 

I almost ran through the dungeons and up, up, and up the rest of the castle until I got to the tallest tower. I paced anxiously before the portrait of the Fat Lady, trying to guess the password. 

“Can you perhaps just call for my brother?”

“No,” she said curtly. “Password?”

“I was a Gryffindor in an alternate reality!” 

“Well in this reality, you're not, and I need the password.”

“Ugh!” I kicked the stone wall, sending shots of pain to my big toe and making me hop on one foot in agony. 

“Albus?”

I turned and saw Rose walking toward me. Great. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I need James,” I said. “It’s urgent.”

“What for?”

“None of—” I stopped myself from giving Rose the usual attitude. There was no one else about at this hour and she was my only hope getting into the Gryffindor dormitory. 

“It’s just brother stuff,” I said, trying to look concerned. “Very sensitive,” I said seriously. I jutted out my bottom lip in my best impression of a pout. Rose regarded me for a minute before turning to the Fat Lady. 

“Babbitty Rabbitty.”

The portrait swung open and we climbed through the hole. 

“I can find James—”

“I’ve got it—thanks!” And I pushed past her and flew up the stairs until I reached the door that said Seventh Years. I cracked it and peered inside. It was empty except one sleeping figure huddled under blankets in a partially-closed scarlet bed. I creeped quietly toward James’s, evident by the photo of our parents on his nightstand and by my previous sneaking about in there, and worked the combination on his trunk. It clicked open. He hadn’t bothered to change it since the last time I broke in. 

“Idiot,” I whispered to no one. 

I found what I was looking for. I pulled the silvery cloak out and tucked it under my arms. Closing the trunk with a soft _click_ , I crept back across the room and down the stairs. Rose was sitting in the common room, curled up in a comfy-looking armchair by the fire and leafing through a book. She narrowed her eyes at me as I walked past.

“It’s almost curfew,” she said. I rolled my eyes. 

“I know!” I said back, giving her a saccharine smile. I topped off my farewell with a cheery wave and left through the portrait hole. 

She was right about the time, though. I threw on the Invisibility Cloak for good measure and headed back down the seemingly endless staircases toward the basements, dodging old Filch and several patrolling staff members. 

Only when I arrived at the portrait of the bowl of fruit did I feel more at ease. I tickled the pear and let myself through the hole that appeared. 

Just a few house-elves were working about, wiping down surfaces and mopping up floors. Some were snacking at the long tables. After shrugging off the cloak, I knocked on side of the wall to get someone’s attention. A little house-elf with big blue eyes came toward me. 

“How can we help you, sir?” The elf’s voice was high pitched, yet melodious. She wore a purple dress and a white apron. 

“Er—” I said. “I was wondering if I could bake here?”

The elf looked at me curiously before looking back at the other elves. They, too, peered at me. 

“I suppose that is okay...” said the house-elf. 

“Great,” I said, pulling the parchment with the recipe out of my pocket. “I just need some ingredients.” 

The house-elf took the parchment from my hand and, large eyes scanning my grandmother’s handwriting, began to read. I looked around the kitchen and spotted a row of ovens and overhead cabinets. An island with a sink stood nearby. The house-elf pushed the parchment back into my hand and then set off for the other end of the kitchens. 

I picked an oven and began looking through the cabinets. I picked out some mixing bowls and utensils and measuring cups. The little elf appeared behind me, arms full of products.

“Thanks—er, sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

“Clover.”

Clover placed the ingredients on my workspace next to the oven and bowed away. I unfolded and tried to press the creases out of the parchment before laying it flat on the workspace. I scanned it again and then collected the right measurements of what I needed. 

While I used a mortar and pestle to grind almonds and flour together, I used a nifty spell my grandmother wrote in the margins of her recipe to charm the whisk into stirring the liquid ingredients by itself. I spotted a bowl of fruit nearby and took an orange, thinking that some orange zest would complement the other flavors nicely, and added that to my batter. Soon I was whisking and sifting and throwing a molded pan full of batter into the oven. Twenty minutes later I was cooling little cakes, all perfectly golden around the edges. 

Clover brought over preserved raspberries. I pressed them into the tops of my sponges and then dusted sugar over the whole lot. When I thought the batch looked satisfactory, I arranged them prettily on a plate. I cleaned up as best I could, despite the other elves waving me off and tutting at the mess I made. I thanked Clover and, throwing the Invisibility Cloak over me and my plate of financiers, I headed out. 

When I got back to my room it was nearly eleven and very dark. With light from my wand to guide me, I crept to mine and Scorpius’s side of the room and placed the plate on his nightstand. Scorpius was lying on top of his covers, one pajama’d leg hanging off the bed, and softly snoring. I didn’t want to wake him, so I pulled the coverlet off of my own bed and draped it across him. I brushed his hair away from his forehead and whispered goodnight before falling into my own bed, exhausted.

* * *

Not nearly enough hours later I woke to find two large grey eyes staring at me. I blinked a few times and the rest of Scorpius’s face came into focus. He was sitting on the edge of my bed, wearing my coverlet like a cape, and grinning at me broadly. One of the financiers was half-eaten and in his hand. I smiled back. 

“Happy Birthday, mate.” My voice was croaky with sleep. 

“You’re covered in flour,” Scorpius said, still smiling. He brushed my cheek with his index finger and then touched the tip of his tongue. “Oh, it’s icing sugar.” I felt my face heat up so I buried it in my pillow. Why did he have to be like this? 

“Come on, Albus!” Scorpius groaned, tugging on my sleeve. I was still wearing my clothes from the day before. “You can’t let me eat breakfast alone on my birthday.”

I would never, so I got up, making a production of how tired I was even though I didn’t really mean it, and I didn’t think Scorpius really bought it. After we got dressed, we walked together to breakfast, Scorpius thanking me the entire way and complimenting the talents he didn’t know I had. 

“Do you think your mum would have liked them?” I asked him as we sat down. The golden plates in front of us filled with food. 

“She’d love them.” 

I pierced some scrambled eggs with my fork and smiled to myself while Scorpius went on about all the different financiers his mum liked. 

The Malfoy owl swooped in a moment later, dropping several packages onto the table. Scorpius opened each one agonizingly slow (“I don’t want to rip the wrapping!”) and arranged the gifts, most of them books from his dad, in front of him in a neat line so he could admire them while he ate. 

Lily stopped by at some point and wished Scorpius a happy birthday. She winked at me when Scorpius told her about the financiers I’d made for him. I saw Louis sitting hand-in-hand with Poline at the Ravenclaw table and waved them over. Louis told Scorpius he’d buy him a birthday Butterbeer next time we went to the Three Broomsticks and Poline swooped down to give him a kiss on each cheek. I laughed as Scorpius went so red that he hid his face in his hands. 

“I’m guessing it’s your birthday.”

We looked up from our plates and saw Rose take the seat across from us. Scorpius beamed. 

“Nothing gets past you, Rosie,” I said, stabbing another bit of egg. She ignored me. 

“How was your holiday, Scorpius?”

“What do you care?” I mumbled. I felt Scorpius’s foot stomp on mine. “ _Shit, Scorpius!_ ”

“Good! Quiet. Always is. How about yours?”

“Good,” said Rose. “Are we still on for the twelfth of February?” 

“What’s happening in February?” I asked. 

“Um, yes! I’m looking forward to it.” Scorpius’s hands were fidgeting so much that he almost knocked over his glass of milk. 

“Looking forward to what?” I looked between them, trying to will one of them to explain. 

“Brilliant,” said Rose, getting up from her seat. “Happy birthday, by the way!”

Scorpius watched her leave and walk back to the Gryffindor table. When he caught me looking at him, he blushed. 

“What’s happening in February?” I asked again. 

“We’re going to Hogsmeade together, remember?” He had opened one his new books from his dad and began flipping through the pages. 

“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t think you still wanted to do that.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

_Because we made up,_ I wanted to say. _Because you don’t have to go out with Rose when you have me._

I settled for shrugging. 

“Maybe you can help me come up with things to talk about?” Scorpius suggested. I could tell he was trying to include me. “I’ve never been on a date before.” I wished he wouldn’t use that word. 

“Sure, Scorpius,” I said, pulling out my timetable from my bag and seeing what other fresh hell awaited me that week. “Whatever you want.”

He patted my thigh. It was going to be a long month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a short chapter... I forgot to update because I'd posted that other Scorbus fic. Whoops.


	7. Chapter Seven

I kept my word and helped Scorpius prepare for his date with Rose as best I could without getting too involved. I was fine going over conversation starters during breakfast, quizzing Scorpius on Rose’s favorite things (most of which I didn’t actually know—I just made stuff up) over lunch, but I staunchly refused Scorpius’s suggestion of role playing one evening during dinner. If Scorpius started making moon eyes at me while pretending we were dating, I’d either have to throw a roll at his head or kiss him. 

On the Saturday of the Hogsmeade weekend, Scorpius stood in front our wardrobe mirror and agonized over what he was going to wear. I was sitting on my bed, looking at half the wardrobe’s contents scattered on the floor or thrown haphazardly on me. Scorpius couldn’t decide whether to put on a smart button-up or something more casual. He half-joked that he ought to wear dress robes. It was only when I scrunched up my face in disgust that he ditched that idea. 

“Do you think I should wear pink? Or is that too on the nose with Valentine’s Day so close?”

“I don’t think Rose is going to care one way or another,” I said, peeking out from behind the sleeve of a navy dress shirt Scorpius had flung at my head. I folded the shirt on my lap and traced the buttons while Scorpius continued to rifle and groan loudly at how little he had. Meanwhile, a mountain of clothing was piling all around me. 

He started going through my side of the wardrobe and pulling things out. Several pairs of my boxer shorts were flying toward my face as Scorpius continued to desperately look through my very disorganized clothes. 

“Can I borrow this?” he asked. I pushed more thrown clothing off my lap and looked up to see Scorpius holding up a thick green bundle. 

“My Christmas jumper?” I watched Scorpius hold it up against himself and smooth out the woolen material. 

Every Christmas my grandmother made everyone in the family a Weasley jumper. Mine were always a dark green with a large silver ‘A’ front and center. 

“I _really_ like it,” Scorpius said earnestly. “I’ll still be warm when I take my cloak off.”

“Er—okay,” I said, and as soon as I agreed Scorpius was pulling off his shirt and tugging my jumper on. It fit him well, and seeing him wearing my clothing turned me on more than I thought possible. He looked at me for approval. 

“Looks good,” I said thickly. Scorpius grinned toothily. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask to borrow your trousers,” he joked as he flopped down next to me on the bed. I began stacking his socks on his face. “Because I’m taller than you and don’t want my ankles getting cold.” I gave a weak laugh in response and tried not to imagine him wearing anything of mine on his lower half. 

Peeling a sock from his face and looking around at the mess he’d made, Scorpius offered to clean up. I suggested we practice the banishing charm instead and we spent the next half hour waving our wands and saying “Depulso!” and sending our shirts, trousers, and underwear flying around the room and back into the wardrobe, leaving the contents messier than ever.

* * *

Later, Scorpius met Rose in the Great Hall and they left for the village together. I told Scorpius that I’d see him around when he got back, and he looked a little disappointed to learn I wasn’t going to Hogsmeade at all. I told him that I had to catch up on homework, but the truth was that I didn’t want to run into him and Rose snogging and that I also had no one else to go with, which was its own brand of pathetic. I watched them walk out, Rose looking apprehensive and Scorpius tripping over his own feet, almost falling, and then apologizing to the floor he nearly landed on. 

Because I had nothing better to do, I actually did work on my homework. I posted up in the Great Hall during lunch with the students below third year and sat at my usual place at the far end of the Slytherin table with a mountain of books, several scrolls of parchment, and a plate full of mozzarella sandwiches. I was a quarter of the way done with an essay for History of Magic on the drafting and implementation of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy and actively trying _not_ to think about all the fun Scorpius was probably having with Rose when I received a sharp blow to the head by something solid. 

“What the f—”

“Sorry, Al!” I turned around and saw an Ever-Bashing Boomerang on the stone floor and Louis jogging toward me. “I wasn’t aiming for your head, promise!”

“‘S all right,” I said, rubbing the back of my skull. I turned back to my homework. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Homework.”

“No, I mean, why aren’t you at Hogsmeade? I thought you liked going now.” Louis had sat across from me and was examining his boomerang for damage. I rubbed the back of my head again and scowled at the boomerang. I watched him sling it across the Hall and smile triumphantly when it spun back to him, hitting several flagons of pumpkin juice on its journey and sending liquid splattering across tables. 

“Didn’t have anyone to go with,” I said honestly. I was handed the boomerang and I threw it. It spun through the air, dodging hundreds of floating candles, until it turned back. 

“Where’s Scorpius?

“With Rose,” I said through gritted teeth. I caught the boomerang on its way back and handed it over just as the professors sitting at the High Table looked our way disapprovingly. 

“Oh.”

“Why are you here?” I asked him, trying to shift the attention somewhere else. 

“Oh, serving my punishment,” he said in a bored sort of voice, as he launched the boomerang again. That time it spun right through the Fat Friar, who gave a hearty laugh, before returning to us. “Poline and I were caught in the Trophy Room. I gave up Hogsmeade in exchange for Professor Herringbone _not_ writing my parents.” 

I half wished I was serving detention for snogging someone in the Trophy Room instead of doing homework by choice. 

“What’s wrong with you, Al? You seem gloomier than usual.”

“Oh, let me think,” I said, as I tore a sandwich into pieces. “Maybe because the only person who likes me decided to hang out with my cousin who hates him rather than spend time with me, his loser friend.” My words came out more acidic than I’d intended, and Louis recoiled at my tone. I groaned and put my head in my hands and didn’t look up again until I felt a hand on my shoulder. Louis had moved to take the seat next to me. 

“First of all, plenty of people like you,” he said gently. I gave a contemptuous laugh. “Well, _I_ like you.”

“You’re my cousin,” I said pointedly. “You have to like me.”

“Not true,” he said, shaking his head and smiling a little. “Look at Rose. You don’t like her. And no one really likes Molly if we’re being completely honest.” I laughed at that. 

“Seriously, Albus,” he continued. “We’re friends, and not because we have to be. And I don’t think you’re being very fair to everyone.”

“What? No one is fair to me—”

“You spend all this energy—and don’t pretend you don’t—agonizing over who doesn’t like you or how people are so unfair—” I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off. “—and it _is_ unfair that you’re picked on and that some people are gits! But you’re not paying attention to all the people who like you. Like me. Fred. Lily. And yeah, we’re your family, but we can’t help that half our relatives attend Hogwarts.”

I couldn’t really argue with that. 

“You’re perfectly capable of making friends besides Scorpius, Al, but you’ve got to lighten up a bit. Give people a chance. And I’m saying this as someone who likes you and all your grumpiness. Look at Poline, she really likes you and she’s the shyest person I’ve ever met. But she says you barely speak to her when she tries to talk to you.”

I was honestly surprised to hear that Louis actually liked me and that his girlfriend did too. It warmed my insides. 

“To be fair, the last person I befriended besides Scorpius turned out to be the evil spawn of Lord Voldemort,” I said, making a retching noise at just the brief mention of Delphi. 

“Chalk it up to bad luck, then,” Louis said, shrugging. He flung the boomerang again, this time toward the High Table. 

“I hear you, though,” I said, and I really did. 

“Good,” Louis said firmly. His eyes widened as he saw Professor Herringbone leave her seat at the High Table and make her way toward us, the eye not covered by a patch narrowed at the boomerang that had just returned to Louis’s hand. “Now do you want to go down to Hagrid’s and see what new creature he’s got hidden in his hut or up to my common room to bother Poline?”

I opted for the latter since I really wasn’t in the mood to be force-fed stoat sandwiches and rock-hard cakes, and we gathered my things and hurriedly headed out the Great Hall and up toward the West Tower before any professors could tell us off. 

 

After climbing a long, spiral staircase, and after Louis spent a good minute trying to answer a riddle, we entered the Ravenclaw common room. It was very airy and filled with books and blue furniture. The domed ceiling was enchanted to reflect the sky outside, and brass telescopes were situated near the tall windows. The height and magnificence of Ravenclaw Tower rivaled Gryffindor’s, surely. 

Poline was sitting at a table near one of the windows, hunched over and reading her Charms textbook, her face curtained by her strawberry-blonde hair. When she saw us approaching, she smiled wide and made space. We sat with her and practiced Switching Spells before starting a game of Wizard Chess. Several times during our games first- and second-year Ravenclaws approached me and asked me all sorts of questions, ranging from whether Harry Potter was really my dad to whether I was a secret Squib to whether I had a girlfriend. 

Louis erupted into a fit of laughter after one girl who looked no older than twelve and wore her long brown hair in two braids asked me quite boldly to take her to Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop in Hogsmeade. Her question made me blush and Poline’s gentle tease to the girl that I preferred blonds made me blush even more. I was so tripped up that I ordered a bishop to a dangerous square on chessboard and was faced with several pawns promptly telling me off. 

Hours passed and only when I noticed that the starry ceiling above mirrored the sky outside did I reluctantly leave, appreciating Louis a little more and promising I’d come back another time. 

I stopped by the Great Hall and looked in to see if Scorpius was at dinner, but I didn’t see him. Judging by the large amount of students and that Rose had made it back to the Gryffindor table and her friends, I knew he still wasn’t in Hogsmeade.

I went to our dormitory and found his bed hangings closed and saw his shoes set neatly to the side of his trunk. 

“Hey, pal,” I said, pulling back the hangings slightly. Scorpius was lying there, arms folded behind his head and eyes closed. His face looked strained and he was still wearing my jumper. His eyes snapped open at the sound of my voice but he looked down the bed instead of at me. 

“Hi Albus.”

“Why aren’t you at dinner?”

“Not hungry.”

“Too many sweets at Honeydukes?”

“Yeah,” he said unconvincingly. 

He’d propped himself up on his elbows and scooted back against the headboard. When he looked at me, I saw that his eyes were a little wet. I frowned. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said. He was obviously lying, so I prodded for more. 

“How did your date go?”

“Not well.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, even though I really, _really_ wasn’t. But I did care that he was upset. “What happened? What did Rose do?”

“Nothing. It just didn’t… work.” He moved over on the bed and I sat down next to him, our shoulders brushing. I leaned against him a little more than I probably should have. “We talked about school, mostly, and she didn’t think my jokes were funny, which is okay, but I felt like she kept trying to get me to argue with her. Like debate about things?”

“She likes to bicker,” I said, shrugging. Even though I hadn’t spent of lot of time with her lately, I knew that she liked innocent arguments and really didn’t mean any harm by it. She was unafraid of any challenge; that was one of the things I admired about her. “It’s like… fun in her family or something. Her mum and dad will go at it one minute and then be kissing the next.”

“Well, I didn’t like it after a while.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again, because I didn’t know what else to say. And because I couldn’t stop myself, I asked the question that had been gnawing at me all afternoon: “Did you kiss?”

Scorpius looked at me with an expression I couldn’t place, and nodded. 

I felt the air leave my lungs and a cold dread settle in my chest. I half wanted to storm out. Instead, I patted my friend on his thigh, willing myself to be supportive. Scorpius just shrugged and began drumming his fingers on his knee. Silence. I knocked my foot against his. 

“So... are you going out again?”

“No.”

I felt the slightest lightness in my heart. 

“Why not?”

“It was just not... what I expected,” he said. He was fidgeting both of his hands, going from drumming his fingers to tugging on his sleeve to biting his nails. He looked nervous. “It was awkward and just… not very fun.”

“Was she that bad of a kisser?” I joked. He gave a hollow laugh. 

“Maybe I was bad. At kissing. Dating. The whole thing.” As he expressed his thoughts, he slid back down the bed so that he could rest his head on my shoulder. His hands were still fidgeting, his fingers now playing with a loose thread at the hem of the jumper. 

“No way,” I said. “Definitely not.”

“You don’t know that,” he laughed. 

“You can’t be,” I reasoned. “You’re you.”

Getting distracted by his constant movement, I moved my hand over his and held it still. My heart raced at the contact and I silently prayed that Scorpius wouldn’t pull his hand back. When he didn’t move his hand away but instead settled even closer against me and continued resting his head on my shoulder, I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. 

It could have been several minutes, or only seconds, but Scorpius and I just sat there, him leaning on me and my gaze fixed on our joined hands. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s really bothering you?” I asked him. 

“I’m just figuring some things out.”

“Okay,” I said, because I didn’t know what to make of that. “Do you want me to get you some dinner?” 

“Yes, please.” 

I let go of his hand and got off the bed. I missed the warmth immediately. 

“I’ll give you your jumper when you come back,” I heard him say as I was walking out. 

“Keep it,” I told him, silently wishing he’d wear it again. 

 

There was still food covering the tables in the Great Hall, so I hurried over to Slytherin and started swiping things—chops, baked potatoes, roasted carrot sticks, a loaf of buttered bread—from different platters and piling them on an empty plate, ignoring the annoyed looks of my housemates as I reached over and between them and plucked food that looked good. 

Spotting Rose still at the Gryffindor table, I made my way over there, spilling some pumpkin juice from a goblet in my other hand along the way. 

“Hey,” I said. She gave a little jump before turning back and looking at me. 

“Al. How are you?”

“What did you do to Scorpius?”

“What—”

“Why is he so upset?”

“I don’t know!” she said, looking nervously around her. Her friends were looking curiously up at me or whispering to each other. “He didn’t seem upset in the village.”

“Well he is,” I said, trying to balance the plate on my arm. “And if you said something, or—”

“Al, we went out and he seemed fine, but I’m sorry if he didn’t have a good time...”

“Did _you_ have a good time?”

Rose shrugged. 

“It was okay…” 

“‘Okay?’” I felt my temper rising. 

“I don’t know about Scorpius—” 

“Exactly. You don’t know anything about him.”

“Al—”

“You couldn’t have laughed at his jokes at least once?”

“That’s not—”

“Scorpius is brilliant, okay? And you should consider yourself lucky that he asked you out—”

“ALBUS.” I stopped talking and looked at her, scowling. I could feel the other Gryffindors staring at me. From the corner of my eye I saw Yann, his mouth agape. I readjusted the plate I was holding and shuffled there awkwardly while Rose looked at me, miffed. 

“Sorry,” I mumbled. Rose’s annoyed look softened. 

“It’s sweet that you look out for your friend,” she said. “And if you say he’s brilliant, then he’s brilliant.”

I felt the back of my neck get hot. 

“What I was _trying_ to say was that I don’t think I lived up to his expectations,” she said, laughing. She turned back to her dinner, and I knew the conversation was over. 

I turned to leave. “He couldn’t stop talking about you, though,” she said suddenly, and she looked back at me with a knowing grin I’d seen on my Aunt Hermione’s face countless times. 

“Right,” I said, trying to process whatever that meant. “Well, food’s gonna get cold.” And I walked off, ignoring the mutterings of the rest of the Gryffindor table and trying to shield from the staff at the High Table the golden plate and goblet I was removing from the Great Hall. 

As I made my way out of the Entrance Hall and down to the dungeons, walking quickly through the torch-lit stone walls and toward my common room, eager to get back to my friend, I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I experienced the tiniest, faintest glimmer of something: hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t very Valentine-y, but Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day!


	8. Chapter Eight

February and March ended as quickly as they came, and I spent most of my days doing revisions. I had never spent so much time in the library or up so late reading by the light of my wand. I had dark circles under my eyes from the lack of sleep, and Scorpius’s hair had several tufts where it stood on end from all the times he spent pulling it in frustration. 

Our dormmates had been sullen the last two months because Slytherin lost the last two Quidditch matches—one against Hufflepuff and the other against Gryffindor. Scorpius told me he was secretly glad that he had never been called from his reserve position to play Seeker and that there wouldn’t be any more practices for the rest of term. Rose, whose team was playing for the Cup in May against Hufflepuff, would show up to lessons looking more tired and frazzled than anyone, which she blamed on her loaded timetable and three Quidditch practices a week. 

It was an understatement to say I was relieved to find the Easter holiday just around the corner. I was going home for a few days and then spending the remainder of the holiday at my family’s most anticipated party of the year. 

 

The Granger-Weasley vow renewal was to take place at an estate called Huntsham Court in Devon. According to my granddad, it was going to be quite the exciting Muggle affair. My grandmother had pushed for the typical celebration at the Burrow that was common in our family, but Uncle Ron was insistent that Aunt Hermione’s relatives be comfortable this time around and that things be done more in Muggle fashion. Doing things the Muggle way had the added bonus of restricting any wizarding press keen on publicizing the event. 

For the most part, I was indifferent. As long as I didn’t have to walk down an aisle or give a speech, I didn’t care if there were fairy lights or a disco ball (Rose stressed to me that there was not going to be a disco ball, which I found mildly disappointing because I still didn’t understand the point of them and wanted to see one in action). 

Aunt Hermione had told me I was allowed to bring a guest, and when I told Scorpius that I was inviting him to the Minister of Magic’s intimate family party, he nearly pissed himself. 

“What shall I wear?” he had asked me, his eyes bulging. “Can I get a top hat?”

He ended up with a tailored grey jacket, vest, and matching trousers, which he planned to wear with a crisp white button up and a sleek black tie, all from a very expensive Muggle shop in London. He was extremely proud of the silver serpent cufflinks his father had specially ordered from Twilfit and Tadding’s in Diagon Alley (probably to make up for the fact that he had to go into a Muggle shop in the first place). Thankfully, Scorpius didn’t get a top hat. 

My mum bought me a Muggle two-piece suit, but rich emerald green in color. I refused to wear a tie but compromised by keeping the white dress shirt. My mum gushed when she saw me try it on days before the party.

“You are going to look so _handsome, _” she had said as she made me turn around and around in my room while she made sure the suit fit.__

“You remind of me of your father,” she said fondly. I made a retching sound and she rolled her eyes, told me to pack, and left down the hall to bother James.

* * *

We arrived at Huntsham Court the morning of the ceremony. Scorpius had Floo’d to our home in Bristol at dawn and then joined us on the drive there, which took only a couple of hours. My dad had enchanted the back seat of the car we rarely used to accommodate me, James, Lily, and Scorpius and enlarged the interior of the boot as well so we could pack in all of the stuff needed for the trip. Scorpius was so excited for his first ride in a car that he squealed in delight when my dad turned the engine and then spent the rest of the ride trying to request songs on the radio and making his window go up and down. I thought to myself that I should ask my dad to teach me to drive so that I could take Scorpius for a ride one day. 

We pulled into the large driveway encircling the estate at the same time as some other members of my family. As soon as I saw the large brick building, I knew it would be able to accomodate all of the Weasleys, Grangers, and guests. 

Huntsham Court was a grand Gothic country house with several wings and large vertical windows. The interior was decorated with very old, yet comfortable, furniture and a hodgepodge of patterns on the rugs and curtains. While some of the estate’s rooms were reserved for banquets or ceremonies, most were lodgings. All of the Weasleys, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Granger, would be staying the night. 

Scorpius and I were bunking with James and Hugo in a small oak-colored room with two full-size blue beds and one toilet. On the walls were several paintings of nude women. Hugo had already spent an inordinate amount of time staring at each painting and would steal glances at the female figures when he thought no one was looking. My parents were in a room down the hall, and the other Weasleys were scattered around the rest of the premises. To Uncle Ron’s delight, he and Aunt Hermione had a suite of their own far away from everyone else in a private wing of the house. 

James had thrown his and my stuff on one bed as soon as we walked in, leaving the other bed for Hugo and Scorpius. 

Claiming that Scorpius barely knew Hugo and shouldn’t have to share with him and not at all because I had an overwhelming desire to sleep with Scorpius’s body pressed against mine, I immediately switched the sleeping arrangements so Scorpius and I could share instead. James loudly teased me about it for a solid thirty minutes while we toured the rest of the estate with the others until my mum yelled at him to shut up. Thankfully, Scorpius, who was busy following Mr. and Mrs. Granger around and asking about Muggle dentistry and bearing his teeth for their inspection, didn’t hear any of James’ teasing.

* * *

“You look so good!” Scorpius told me, as we faced each other in our room at the estate an hour before the ceremony was to begin. 

“Er—really?” I looked in the mirror hanging on the closet door. I tried to comb some of my hair into place with my fingers, but it sprang back up in loose curls in different directions. 

“You look really smart,” Scorpius said, looking me up and down. I buttoned up the buttons of my white shirt and the top button on my jacket. Scorpius wasn’t dressed yet. He was in his shirt and boxers and socks and busy spraying cologne on his neck and wrists. 

“If you say so,” I muttered, as I placed my wand in the top drawer of the nightstand next to Scorpius’s for safekeeping while we mingled with the Muggles. I went into the bathroom to piss one more time before we headed out. Over the flush, I heard Scorpius wonder aloud if there was going to be cake. I knew there would be—my dad and I had spent half a day making it.

I tried using the hair créme Scorpius had bought me for Christmas to keep some strands in place, but my attempts seemed futile. 

When I stepped out, I saw that Scorpius had finished getting dressed. His shoes were shined, his trousers pressed, and his jacket hung off his shoulders so that he appeared broader up top and lean as your eyes traveled down. His tie was tucked perfectly into his vest and his hair sat neatly in place. The whole ensemble seemed to straighten his posture and give him a dose of needed confidence. As I watched him affix his cufflinks, biting his lip in concentration, I came to fully appreciate Muggle formal wear. 

“How do I look?” he asked me, grinning. He looked fucking fit. 

“Good,” I managed. “You look good.”

“Great!” he said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get out there, then. James and Hugo are already helping usher in guests.”

We gave each other one last look over. I straightened Scorpius’s collar, and he tried to smooth my hair down, biting his lip again. 

“I’m hopeless,” I said, looking up at him and shrugging.

“You’re perfect,” he said. I felt my skin prickle. The room seemed to be getting smaller. I grabbed his arm and led him toward the door. 

“Blimey,” I said as we walked out together. “How much fancy cologne did you put on?” 

“Is it too much?” He started to smell himself. Although the scent was overpowering, it was still nice. 

“Maybe a bit,” I said. “Take it down a notch next time.” 

We walked together to the gallery and then into a larger room. The main hall where we would be seated was packed with white round tables and matching chairs. At the front of the room was a magnificent fireplace where Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron would exchange their vows. I saw various cousins completing various tasks and, so we didn’t have to arrange last-minute centerpieces or escort hobbling old ladies to their seats, we quickly ducked out and tried to look busy elsewhere. 

The ceremony began shortly after. My grandmother cried and my dad gave a speech. Scorpius hooted with glee at the end and I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm for something so sappy. 

For dinner, we ate roasted lamb paired with asparagus and drizzled with a Madeira sauce, honey-glazed chipolatas, and soft-boiled and salted quail eggs at our table with Lily, James, Hugo, and Rose, and, mouths full, smiled politely at our parents’ friends when they came to chat. Throughout the meal, Scorpius kept eyeing my elaborately-decorated three-tier cake in the far corner of the room. 

Uncle Ron was doing a great job of staying sober, much to the disappointment of Uncle George, who was having a seemingly swell time sampling all the Muggle beer and cocktail choices at the open bar and trying to get everyone else to join him. I managed to get my hands on a couple of martinis myself and brought one to Scorpius at our table. 

“Ooh, refreshments!” he said. He popped the olive into his mouth and tipped his drink back for a sip. “Blegh!” He scrunched up his face and looked suspiciously at his drink. 

James and Hugo left to chat up some of Aunt Hermione’s younger relatives on the other side of the room. Rose left as well to take a photo with her Muggle grandparents.

When the lights dimmed and music boomed from the speakers on the dancefloor, Scorpius turned excitedly toward me. “Wanna dance?” 

“I think I’ll give it a miss,” I said, swirling my drink. “Maybe I’ll get another one of these.”

“Oh, boo,” Scorpius pouted. He turned back toward the dancefloor to watch the DJ press various buttons on his contraption. 

“I’ll go dance with you,” said Lily, shrugging her shawl off and onto her chair. She was wearing a shimmery purple dress that looked rather nice with her red hair. “Just don’t stand too close. Your cologne is giving me a headache.”

“Okay!” Scorpius said, gleefully. They went to the dancefloor, catching Louis, Fred, and Roxanne at a neighboring table on the way and pulling them along. I watched them all dance with each other. The DJ had pressed another button and now colorful lights were flickering across the floor and walls.

“Not going to join in?” I turned to see my dad standing behind me.

“Not really my thing,” I said coolly, sipping my drink. 

“And martinis are?” he asked. He took my drink from me and downed it before leaving to join my mum near the bar. I sighed and continued watching the others. 

Lily was twirling Scorpius, who had to duck under her arm with each whirl since she was considerably shorter than him. I couldn’t help myself from breaking into a wide grin when Louis and Fred began a weird Irish jig that didn’t match the music at all. As he danced, Scorpius looked through the growing crowd and over at me. He waved and I held my hand up in response. He beckoned me over. 

I shook my head. He pouted back at me before turning away toward the others. I watched James bounce over to the group, dragging Rose with him. Soon Rose and Scorpius were dancing awfully close to each other, and I didn’t like it. At all. 

So I sighed again and got up and headed toward the music, passing a waiter carrying a tray of glasses filled with amber-colored liquid in ice. I plucked a glass for myself and took a big gulp, giving my own “blegh!” at the stoutness and lingering burn as it warmed my insides. I left it on a nearby table and, pushing past Rose a little rougher than necessary and forcing her to collide into one of her elderly relatives, met Scorpius in the middle of the dance floor. He was rocking his hips from side to side and shimmying his shoulders. He was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever seen. 

“Alllllbuuus,” he crooned, waggling his eyebrows. He grabbed my hands and started to pull them back and forth so as to mimic his movements. I rolled my eyes but laughed all the same. The music was thumping and everyone around was dancing and paying us no mind, except for the photographer, who was weaving through the throng and snapping photos of everyone in sight. 

I moved my legs ever so slightly. I probably looked like a newborn deer taking its first steps. Scorpius pulled me toward him and twirled me under his arm, and then grabbed my hands again. 

“I’m having loads of fun!” he yelled over the music. 

“Of course you are,” I yelled back. “You’re with me, baby.”

He laughed at that. I let him guide my arms every which way and step around my feet, which I was shuffling awkwardly. We lifted our arms in a bridge and Lily and Roxanne passed under us, dancing together. Fred had picked up my discarded bourbon from the nearby table and was dancing by himself while taking careful sips every few beats. Louis and James were taking turns spinning Rose across the dance floor. 

The thump of the upbeat song slowed and smoothly transitioned to something softer, and Scorpius slowed down too. He brought our arms down but kept holding my hands, and I of course didn’t mind it. We swayed side to side and I watched my feet for a while, trying not to step on Scorpius’s toes. When I looked up I saw couples all around us, some in conversation as they danced lightly to the music and others, including Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron, pressed together in an embrace. I saw Lily walking off the dance floor, clutching a stitch in her side, and James following, grabbing a glass of water from a waiter nearby. 

I wondered if anyone else would stay and share a dance with their best friend. I wondered if I should break off and go too. I looked at Scorpius to find him staring at me. When he saw me looking back, he gave a smile with only one side of his mouth and then squeezed my hands while he continued to sway. 

Everything around us blurred, and I found myself studying my best friend’s face. His eyes were soft but bright. I looked at his eyelashes and how, though very light, they complemented his grey irises perfectly. His eyebrows, several shades darker than his hair, framed the top half of his face nicely and saved him from looking washed out. His nose was straight and centered, and his lips were a pale pink and flushed when he smiled, which seemed to be more of a regular occurence lately.

What did he think of me? Of how I looked? Did he think my eyebrows were too thick or my hair too messy? Or my teeth not straight enough or my frame too skinny? I wanted desperately in that moment to be whatever it was that he liked. I wanted him to be enjoying this as much as me. 

He smiled at me again, his eyes crinkling at the corners this time, and I felt him rub the back of my hands with his thumbs. My face suddenly grew hot again as I realized I was staring a bit too hard, taking in every feature on his face like I hadn’t known it for five years. I pulled my hands away and took a step back, which turned out to be a mistake because my eyes were allowed to take in the rest of him again and confirm to my brain what I’d had long ago realized and had been foolishly trying for months to suppress: my best mate was beautiful and I was extremely and completely attracted to him.

Fuck. 

I needed air. Bumping into several dancers around me, I left the dancefloor as fast I could. I left the hall, grabbing a glass of white wine from a waiter on the way, and exited the gallery through a large oak door I knew led to somewhere outside. 

Ending up on the pebbled driveway, I crossed to get to a gazebo tucked farther back on the grounds. I sat on a bench under it and exhaled slowly. I looked around me and found I was alone. It had gotten dark and the ropes of light twisted around the gazebo and surrounding trees gave a warm glow. The moon hung brightly above and the air was pleasant, so I took my jacket off and rolled my sleeves up to enjoy it a bit more and think about what just happened. 

I sat there alone for a long time, enjoying the stillness of the country air and hum of the music reverberating through the walls of the estate. My wine was dry and I didn’t really like it, but I sipped it anyway so as to give me something to do. I looked up when I heard footsteps and saw Scorpius approaching me with a drink in one hand and a plate in another. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said. _I’ve been looking at you,_ I thought. He sat down next to me, handed me the martini, and pulled a fork out of his pocket. “Brought these for you,” he said, nodding to the new drink in my hand and the slice of cake sitting on the plate. “I’ve already had two slices.” 

Even though I was still holding my half-empty wine glass, I took a sip of the martini. 

“Here,” Scorpius said. He had pierced a piece of cake and brought the fork to my mouth. Even though I could have easily set my glasses down on the ground or balanced them on the bench as Scorpius had done with the plate of cake, I let him feed me. 

“Thanks,” I said, in between bites. Did best friends feed each other? 

“I was feeling like the odd man out in there without you,” Scorpius said. “James and Lily were going on about how it was unfair that—that I’m here.”

“What?” I asked, choking on a bit of cake. “Why would they say that?” I felt my temper flare as I thought of my brother and my sister, who I thought were getting on quite well with Scorpius, making him feel like he wasn’t wanted. 

“I don’t think they meant to upset me!” Scorpius added, pushing another bite of cake into my mouth. “Their actual words were something like, ‘It’s not fair that Albus gets to bring a date but we couldn’t.’”

“What?” I asked again. A date? Scorpius wasn’t my date. Did he think he was? Did everyone? 

“I told them I wasn’t,” he said. “Your date, that is.” He reached up and brushed some crumbs off my bottom lip with his thumb. My mouth got dry, and it wasn’t the wine. I couldn’t read his face. His eyebrows were raised in a question and he appeared to be chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“Er, yeah,” I said, finding my voice again. I gave a nervous laugh. “My date, ha. Absolutely not.” 

Scorpius smiled and looked down at his shoes. “Right.”

_Great,_ I thought, relieved. _Friendship salvaged._

I threw back the rest of my wine and then the martini before setting my glasses on the ground. “Ready to go back in?” I asked him, grabbing my jacket and throwing it over my shoulder. The air had suddenly felt stifling. 

“Sure,” he replied. He pierced the last bits of cake and ate it before setting his plate on the ground next to my glasses. 

He got up and walked around the gazebo, running his hands along the rope lights and following the electrical cords with his eyes, intrigued. I watched his profile as he stuck his hands in his pockets and looked out at the lit trees around us. His perfect face was illuminated by the moon above, and I could see every feature in glowing detail as he stood there, uncharacteristically quiet and contemplative. He looked bloody gorgeous. 

“For fuck’s sake, will you get out of the sodding moonlight and come inside already?” 

My tone surprised myself and him, if his raised eyebrows were any indication. Whatever. I needed to be around other people and not staring at my best friend’s stupid, pretty face. He put up his hands as if to signal to me to calm down and followed me across the pebbled drive and inside. 

We didn’t dance again but instead made small talk with my parents and their friends for the rest of the evening. We saw Neville and his wife, Hannah, who was very pregnant, as well as Aunt Hermione’s secretary, Ethel, who was one of the few non-family Ministry employees there. We also saw Luna and her husband Rolf and sons, Lorcan and Lysander. You could tell Luna tried to blend in with the Muggles by wearing their customary formal wear, but the small ornamental birds she charmed to spin around her head like a moving halo gave off the impression that she was quite peculiar. My granddad, who was happy enough donning a simple suit tsked in annoyance at the magic she used. 

When the celebrations finally ended around two in the morning, Scorpius and I went back to our room. James and Hugo were already there, sprawled out on their backs in the bed they had to share. James had left his shoes in the door, and I tripped on them as I walked in. Scorpius caught me before I fell all the way, and I blushed at the contact. 

We toed off our own shoes and got on our bed. We scooted back against the headboard while Hugo fiddled with the remote control for the television mounted to the wall opposite. On the nightstand between the two beds was an uncorked bottle of wine either James or Hugo had swiped from the bar. 

“Ugh,” Scorpius groaned. “My feet hurt.”

“You boogied too hard, mate,” James said, still on his back and with one hand over his face. He waved his other hand toward the wine bottle before giving a huge hiccup. Hugo passed it to him and then resumed flipping through the television channels. 

Wide-eyed and mouth parted in wonderment, Scorpius watched an infomercial for a kitchen gadget that promised hassle-free omelettes. I knew his exposure to Muggle technology was limited to whatever he learned in Muggle Studies. My family, on the other hand, had a scarcely-used television at home. 

Perhaps it was the two martinis, wine, and bourbon, or maybe it was the intense need to be touching him again coupled with my extreme lack of willpower, but I found myself patting my thigh and telling him, “Hey, turn a bit and put your feet here.”

Eyes still locked on the screen in front of us (Hugo had found a cartoon with loads of swearing), Scorpius shuffled until he sat perpendicular to me, with his back against the wall and his socked feet in my lap. I began massaging the soles of his left foot with my thumbs. I watched Scorpius close his eyes and lean his head against the wall. 

“Merlin, that feels so good, Albus.”

I felt my entire face redden for the millionth time in the last twelve hours. I glanced over at James in the other bed, who had lifted his head up and was looking at us, eyebrows raised and wine bottle paused at his lips. 

_What?_ I mouthed at him. He shook his head incredulously and turned back to watch the television. Hugo wiggled his bare foot in my direction. 

“Can I get next, Al?” 

“Fuck off, Hugo,” I said, while moving on to knead Scorpius’s right foot, trying to finish what I foolishly started. “Keep that thing away from me.”

“Rude!” Hugo said, taking mock offense. “How do you get the crabbiest Potter to be so nice to you, Malfoy?”

“My undeniable charm,” murmured Scorpius, his eyes still closed. I could tell he was falling asleep. I smiled to myself. He wasn’t wrong. 

James had started snoring, the wine bottle tucked precariously in his arms until Hugo pulled it free and placed it back on the nightstand. 

“I’m gonna go find Fred and Louis,” said Hugo, bouncing off his bed and heading to the door. I didn’t know how he was still so energetic. “They told me they managed to get their hands on some cigars. And maybe I’ll see what the girls are doing. Wanna come?” I shook my head. 

“Better get your man to bed, then,” he added as he left, turning off the light and closing the door behind him.

I waited for my eyes to adjust the darkness and then looked at Scorpius. From what i could make out, he was asleep against the wall, his chin tucked to his chest and his feet still in my lap. I gently pushed his feet off and then nudged him until he blinked back at me, barely cognizant. 

“Take your jacket off, Scorpius.” 

He shrugged his jacket off and I took it from him and laid it on the end of the bed with mine. He straightened out and laid his head on his pillow. I lied down next to him, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne and very much liking the little space between us.

* * *

“Al, did you know Scorpius told me last night that I was his favorite Potter?” Lily said on the drive home from Huntsham Court. 

We were in the back of the car again, with me by the window on the driver’s side and Scorpius in between me and Lily (he had been banned from operating any windows). James was on Lily’s other side, leaning against his window with his mouth hanging open and a pair of sunglasses on his face. 

“I did not!” Scorpius said, affronted. 

“Hey,” croaked James, picking his head up from the window and looking half dead. “You told me I was your favorite.” His head fell back against the window with a thud.

Lily burst out laughing. I rolled my eyes, glad that James’s drinking at the party had apparently gotten the best of him this morning. I had a slight headache myself. 

“Don’t tease your brother,” my mum said from up front. “We all know I’m Scorpius’s favorite.”

“I thought I was your favorite?” my dad chimed in. I saw him look back at us and wink in the rearview mirror. 

“Here we go,” I groaned. Scorpius’s ears had turned pink but he was smiling to himself. I knew he loved the playful attention he was getting from my family, and I kind of did too. I liked knowing he was liked. 

“Albus knows he’s my favorite Potter,” Scorpius said. 

I blushed and then quickly looked out the window. I heard my dad say something about how several bottles of alcohol had mysteriously left the bar and ended up in the possession of James and my cousins. I heard my mum mention all the drinks my dad had sampled. I was only half paying attention, though, because, despite the spacious room afforded by the enlarged backseat, Scorpius had scooted over so much that his thigh was pressed firmly against mine, where it would stay for the rest of the trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to think Harry and Albus cook or bake together sometimes.


	9. Chapter Nine

As soon as we returned to school, Scorpius took me to the library to resume our studies, our school bags weighed down with textbooks and parchment and extra quills. Night after night we spent there until Madam Pince kicked us out. The Easter holiday seemed like it happened ages ago, and summer seemed like a lifetime away. 

“You’re my best friend, Scorpius,” I said one afternoon as I scanned yet another revision timetable Scorpius had drawn up. We were, unsurprisingly, sitting in the library. Scattered around us at other tables were equally miserable Fifth and Seventh Years studying for their own O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. “But frankly, you’re doing my fucking head in.”

Scorpius turned to his right and looked at me, his eyes glazed over and his mouth hanging open slightly. 

“Don’t swear in front of the books, Albus,” he chastised, shaking his head. 

“Why?” I asked warily, remembering not only a story my dad told me about a book that screamed when you opened it but also my aunt’s weaponized library. I eyed one of the strange books Scorpius had pulled from the Restricted Section, claiming it would help with Defense Against the Dark Arts. “Can they do something?” 

“No, it’s just rude. Now look at your timetable and see that you’re supposed to be studying Herbology right now.”

“You heard the man, Al. Get cracking.”

I looked behind me and saw James walking up. He had a Potions textbook in one hand and his wand in the other. I turned back to my notes and books. 

“Do you two normally sit on the same side of the table?” he asked as he took a seat across from us. He pocketed his wand in his robes and peered over the table at my timetable. 

“Yes,” Scorpius and I said at the same time. I glanced in Scorpius’s direction and caught him grinning at me. 

“Anyway…” James said, shuffling the books around on the table as he read their covers. “I’m taking a little break. Thought I’d see what my little brother was doing. I never knew you were a right keener.”

Scorpius made a sort of choked sound as he saw James continue to toss aside books and assorted pieces of parchment on the table, thoroughly fucking up everything Scorpius had spent the last two hours sorting out. 

“Okay, okay,” I said, reaching across the table and stopping James from rifling through a color-coded set of flashcards for Arithmancy. “We’re obviously busy here so if you could just go, please, that would be great.”

James leaned back in his chair and swung his legs onto the table. One of his shoes landed on a chart of Saxon runic symbols Scorpius had drawn up for me. Scorpius gasped. 

I tugged the chart away from under James’s shoe and smoothed it out on the table while glaring at my brother. 

“Shouldn’t you be studying for N.E.W.T.s?” I asked him. As a Seventh Year, I would’ve thought James would be just as stressed as us. 

“And don’t you have another game coming up as well?” Scorpius added. 

“I told you, I’m taking a little break from studying in this moldy library,” James said while staring up at the ceiling, hands folded behind his head. “And Gryffindor is fine for the match. I have complete confidence in my team. Even little Lily.”

“Well good for you,” I said. James just shrugged. 

“Have you had your talk with your head of house yet?” he asked. 

“For what?” I asked.

“For career advice.”

“For _what?_ ”

“Career advice, you dolt. You know, where you pick your N.E.W.T.-level courses for next year and decide what you want to do after school.”

“But I have no idea what I want to do after Hogwarts.”

“That’s the point of the advice, Al.”

“Well, fuck.”

A Hufflepuff girl two tables over shushed me. 

Beside me, Scorpius had sat up straighter in his chair and began taking notes. 

“And when are we going to be receiving this advice?” He asked James. 

“Dunno exactly but it should be soon,” James said, shrugging. I groaned loudly. I had not the foggiest of what I wanted to do next week let alone in the next few years. 

“Don’t despair, my slippery, slithering friend,” James said as he leaned back further on his chair. Feet still on our table, he balanced on the chair’s back legs. “You can just live with Scorpius in his manor. He’s destined to be a gentleman of leisure and can support you.” Scorpius scoffed. 

“First point: I will _not_ be living in Malfoy Manor the rest of my life, especially as a _gentleman of leisure,_ ” Scorpius said. “Second point: yes, in any case, I will take care of Albus if he becomes a directionless mope.”

“Thanks for your support,” I snarled. I crossed my arms and slouched in my seat. Scorpius put his arm around me and pulled me close. 

“I said ‘if’ not ‘when.’ I have complete faith in you.”

When all I did in response was roll my eyes, he cupped my chin and angled my face toward him. 

“Now, study your Herbology notes,” he said softly, and he patted my cheek and pointed to a stack of parchment on the table. 

I gave an unnecessarily loud sigh before pulling the notes closer to me and beginning to read about mandrakes, the lines of my neat print annotated by the even neater, slanted script of Scorpius. I felt Scorpius hook his arm around me again, letting his hand rest on my shoulder. From the corner of my eye, I saw him pick up a book and continue reading. 

An obviously fake cough made me look up to see James, feet on the table, still teetering on his balanced chair, and looking at me, one eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“You realize how weird you two are, right?”

Instead of answering, I got up, leaned across the table and used one finger to push against the sole of the James’ shoe. The light nudge was all that was needed to knock the precarious chair off balance completely. Arms flailing and a curse escaping him, James fell back and onto the floor, his chair tumbling down underneath him. 

James was a heap of robes on the floor, chuckling as he tried to disentangle himself and get up. Scorpius and I roared with laughter as we listened to him struggle and complain about the chair legs poking him in the arse. Only when shriveled old Madam Pince, who was living proof that dinosaurs once roamed the earth, came over to berate us for making a racket in her library, did we simmer down to silent giggles. 

James eventually got up, his face flushed with good-humored mirth, clapped us both on the back, and then left. 

As soon as he was out of sight, I did an exaggerated impression of James falling, which sent Scorpius into a fit of laughter again, earned us another shush, and got us kicked out of the library for the rest of the day.

* * *

We trudged through the following weeks more determined than ever to cover every last bit of information we’d learned over the last five years. Scorpius was so frazzled at the end of each day that he was beginning to worry me. And I wasn’t the only one. 

Portia Bellchant, who was in his Arithmancy class and had started to study with him on the weekends, confided in me that Scorpius had burst into tears when he’d got only eight of ten questions correct on the first try of a mock exam. 

Hugo told me that he saw Scorpius walking around the lake one afternoon when I was in Care of Magical Creatures, reciting color-changing charms and using near-foul language when he got something wrong (“He almost uttered ‘fuck,’ Al, I swear!”). 

And our dormmate, Tadgh, told me that he saw Scorpius doze off more than once in Muggle Studies and wake up minutes later in a sweat. 

When I confronted Scorpius about all this, he tried to downplay it. 

“Oh, Albus, I take naps in Muggle Studies because I already know all of it. Go ahead and quiz me on Muggle transportation or electricity or submarines! And don’t listen to Portia—I was _barely_ crying. Just a little choked up is all. You know how I get when talking about the magical properties of the number seven…”

I half believed him, too, until we were a month away from O.W.L.s and one sleep away from our appointments with Professor Verity for Career Advice. 

We were sitting in one of the chaises in a corner of our common room and quizzing each other on ingredients needed in the potions most likely to be on the O.W.L. We had been there for hours. It was nearly ten and most of the other Slytherins who’d been in the common room with us had left to their dorms for bed. 

“Okay, so, the Herbicide Potion contains the juice of... what?” I asked him. Scorpius had scrunched up his face in concentration and was tugging on the sleeve of his pajama top. “C’mon, you know this.”

“It’s um—rat brains—no, no, that’s stupid, um—Merlin, why can’t I remember?” 

“Scorpius—”

“Valerian root! No, no, that doesn’t make any sense—”

“It’s horklump juice.”

“Albus! I was almost there! I—I—I’m definitely going to fail these exams—I—” 

And then he was breathing quite heavily. His face was paler than normal and his unfocused eyes looked on the verge on tears. He buried his face in his shaking hands. His heaving seemed to only increase when I touched his arm.

I did the only thing I could think of and ran out of the common room and into our dorm. I rummaged through my bag of potions stores that Scorpius and I had practiced brewing that morning until I found the small vial I was looking for. 

I raced back out to the common room and sat down next to Scorpius again. He was still in a state, his breathing coming out more like wheezing. The few people sitting in chairs and stools around the room had turned to look at what was going on. Portia had made her way over and was looking at Scorpius, her face half-concerned and half-scared. I shooed her away before I unstoppered the vial and brought it to his lips. He looked at me, his eyes unfocused, and I nodded at him encouragingly. It took a moment, but he eventually nodded back and let me tip the vial into his mouth. When every last drop of the Calming Draught was gone, I placed the vial aside and waited for it to take effect. 

Scorpius was breathing more evenly already, and he had closed his eyes. I combed his hair back with my fingers and wiped away the sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. The little color Scorpius usually had was returning to his face, and he had stopped trembling entirely. 

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him toward me. He settled against me and breathed in deeply. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. I could feel his lips move against my nightshirt. 

“You’re working too hard,” I said. “And you haven’t been sleeping properly.” The Calming Draught seemed to be preventing Scorpius from arguing or deflecting, because he only nodded against me. I felt the rising and falling of his chest sync up with mine. 

When he pulled away, his eyes were clear. He sniffled and wiped at his nose with his sleeve. 

“That Calming Draught was good, then,” he said. 

“Do you want to test the Sleeping Draught?”

“I think I should.” I got up and helped him to his feet. We walked back to our dorm and got ready for bed. Alan and Tadgh were already there, snoring loudly. 

“I’m glad we practiced making those potions,” I whispered as Scorpius and I folded back the covers on our beds.”

“I’m glad you thought to use them,” Scorpius said. I rifled through my potions bag and pulled out the vial containing the Sleeping Draught. 

“I’m glad you’re finally going to take a break, even for just one night.”

“I’m glad I have you.”

I handed over the vial and watched him down it. He settled back onto his pillow and held out his arms, and we hugged like we did every night. 

“I’m glad I have you, too.”

* * *

Scorpius was chippier at breakfast and talked my ear off about his upcoming Career Advice appointment with Professor Verity. Alan and Tadgh has both had theirs and came back with a sample timetable of the N.E.W.T-level classes they were going to take next year, assuming they’d pass their O.W.L.s. 

I half listened to Portia telling Scorpius all about her meeting while I rifled through various pamphlets and brochures littered in between jugs of juice across the Slytherin table. 

“Thinking about training security trolls, Albus?” Scorpius asked. I was reading the blurb under a picture of a very dumb looking troll.

“Even if I was, I don’t really need classes for that,” I said. “I’ll just spend more time with Karl.”

“How about becoming a Healer?”

“I don’t really see myself at a hospital bedside, honestly. I’m not sure I’m cut out for it.”

“Well, you take really good care of me.”

I felt my face heat up. _That’s because I love you._

“What about you?” I asked, trying to shift the focus from me. “I think you’d make a great Healer.”

“Maybe…” Scorpius said. He worried his bottom lip. “I do think it’s honorable and you know I care deeply about those with illnesses—”

“But?”

“But, I do have, um, another interest that could translate to a job, perhaps.”

“What is it?” I tried thinking of all the things Scorpius was interested in—flying, his confectionery bag, things that ran on batteries.

“You might laugh at me.”

“Scorpius, I watched you try to seduce my cousin by talking about bread. I’m not going to laugh at you.”

“Okay, I just think it would be fun—and insightful!—to learn more about Muggles and maybe work to understand them better and even, you know, protect them. My mum used to talk about doing something like that, if she weren’t ill...” He looked down at a pamphlet about curse breaking for Gringotts and played with the hair at the nape of his neck nervously. 

“Scorpius, that sounds great.”

“Really?” 

“Yes! My granddad did that before he stopped working. He worked in some Ministry department.”

“Did he enjoy it?” I could hear the excitement in his voice. 

“Very much, yeah. He worked there for a million years. Now he just tinkers with old cars and _appliances.”_

“Oh, I love cars!” 

“I kind of do, too,” I laughed. “I want to ask my dad to let me drive ours.”

“Oh you’ve got to, Albus. And have I told you about the Muggle television? Professor Bashar somehow got one to work in the castle and we watch _loads_ of things, sometimes cartoons!”

“I know,” I said through a spoonful of cereal. “You wouldn’t stop saying ‘Everything's coming up Malfoy!’ for a week until I finally broke and asked you what the hell you were talking about and you spent a half hour explaining that program with the yellow people.” 

Scorpius got a faraway look in his eye as he remembered this. We spent the rest of breakfast talking about potential jobs until Scorpius was told by one of the Slytherin girls that he was up next. He jumped out of his seat so fast that his elbow hit a goblet of milk and sent it tumbling across the table. I didn't bother to clean up the spill but instead finished Scorpius’ bacon. 

Thirty minutes later he returned, beaming and with a sample timetable of his own. I didn’t have time to look it over because I was immediately next. I gathered my things and left Scorpius to obsess over N.E.W.T.-level Arithmancy with Portia. 

Professor Verity was waiting for me in her office. I took the same seat I did a few months earlier when I asked to borrow her fireplace. Professor Verity looked up from a stack of parchment, the topmost sheet with my name at the top in her handwriting, and grinned at me. 

“Albus.”

“Professor.”

“How are you?”

“Still hungry.”

“Given any thought to what you might want to do after school?”

“I haven’t given much thought to what I want to do next week.”

Professor Verity sighed but smiled again. 

“All right,” she said, and she moved the parchment away from her. She also pushed aside several pamphlets and brochures that were on my side of the desk. “Where do you see yourself in, say, five years?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek.

“Floating on a raft, reading the latest ‘The New Misadventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle’ and sipping a fruity cocktail. How about you?” 

“Probably counseling little snots like you on poor life choices while sipping a fruity cocktail.”

I laughed. 

“Really, though, Albus, do you have any idea of what you might want to do with your life?”

“Do I really need to have that worked out now? I figure I’ll jump off that bridge when I come to it.”

“Well, no, I’d say, but I need something to report back to Headmistress McGonagall, so if we can work on some kind of plan…”

“I really have no idea,” I said, feeling exhausted by the conversation already. “I feel like I’m not good at anything.”

“Rubbish,” Professor Verity said, batting her hand in the air as if she was willing my negative thoughts out of the atmosphere. “You’re good at potions, for one.”

“I’m not sure if I want to spend my life huddled over a cauldron,” I said. “No offense,” I added quickly at her frown. 

“Professor Babbling reports that you do very well in her class and are even completing your group assignments.”

“I do like Runes…”

“And you’ve improved tremendously in your other classes as well this year, right?”

“I’ve been studying harder…” 

“And you like to cook, no? Bake? Make things?”

“I suppose…”

“And you are a very good friend, if Scorpius Malfoy has anything to say about it.”

“He says a lot of things…”

“So it sounds like to me that you are good at many things.”

I shrugged. 

“Have you considered teaching?”

“Teaching? Me? I’m hardly good at learning!”

“I don’t think that’s true. I’ve just told you that your marks across all classes have improved. Besides, maybe you can help make Hogwarts a better place for students who feel the same way you often do.” I shrugged again, not really sure what to think of that. 

“Have you thought about working for the Ministry? You have family there—”

“The Ministry!” I laughed. “The Ministry that kept illegal Time-Turners and wouldn’t discourage the rumors against my best friend’s parentage? The Ministry that keeps my dad at work all hours of the day? Ha!” 

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Let’s just face it, Professor: I don’t know what to do with my life.”

“I think that’s okay,” she said. “But let’s jot down some ideas, yeah? Just some goals.” Professor Verity dunked her quill in ink, slid the parchment back in front of her, and made a bullet point under my name before looking at me expectantly. 

“Fine,” I groaned. “Goals. Right.” I tapped my foot on the ground as I tried to picture myself out of school. “Write down that I want to be fat and happy.” 

“‘Wants comfort,’” Professor Verity scribbled.

“And maybe I’ll marry rich so I never have to work too hard for gold—”

“‘Hopes to find creative ways to expand earned wealth…’”

“And somehow I’ll produce or otherwise acquire some children, give them names like Carina and Rigel and Pavo, shower them with love, and yet project unrealistic expectations on them so that they inevitably foster a healthy sense of resentment against me—”

“‘Wants to start a family and...’ _Pavo?_ ” 

“These are only ideas, Professor.”

“I feel like you aren’t taking this seriously.”

“You’re right.” 

It was Professor Verity’s turn to sigh. 

“Albus, is there any degree of truth to any of this?” she asked, pointing down at what she had written. 

“Well, I do want a family,” I said, a bit sheepishly. “And I’d like to not be a complete failure. But I really, really don’t know what I want to do.” I looked at her pleadingly, needing the torture to end. Professor Verity considered me for a while. 

“Okay,” she said. And she turned the parchment over. “I think that’s fine,” she said again. “But let’s make a broad list of subjects you can take next year. Classes that will open you up to a variety of careers or be useful if you become, you know, a family man.”

A family man. I kind of liked it. I decided to cooperate and nodded my assent. Professor Verity gave a small smile. 

“Right then,” she said, and she started scribbling again. “Stop me if you disagree. I think you should continue Potions... And I have an Alchemy class for N.E.W.T. students that I’d love to see you in... And Charms, Herbology, Transfiguration, and Ancient Runes since you enjoy it…”

I was nodding. I couldn’t disagree.

“Astronomy? It’s not a prerequisite for many careers, so maybe you can drop that…wouldn’t want too heavy of a course load... and do you want to take History of Magic? No? I don’t blame you... but Defense Against the Dark Arts would round your education our nicely and considering the trouble you’ve been in in the past…ha, past...”

And we sat there and formed a mock timetable. Assuming I’d pass all my O.W.L.s, it looked promising. I felt better about not knowing what I wanted to do, and Professor Verity figured we’d planned well enough to satisfy McGonagall. 

I left with my timetable in hand and the weight sitting on my chest a little lighter. I met up with Scorpius in the library and he hugged me when I revealed all the N.E.W.T.-level courses I planned to take, most of which we would share, assuming we both pass upcoming exams. He did pout when I told him I didn’t want to continue History of Magic but quickly got over it when he saw I would be taking Alchemy and continuing Runes. He also assured me that he thought it was fine that I didn’t know what to do and that he’d stand by me no matter where I went in life. He couldn’t have known how much that meant to me.

* * *

We spent all of May going to classes and doing even more revising, both in the library and in empty classrooms where we could practice spells. We found the Ancient Runes classroom on the sixth floor perfect for practicing as it had the largest blackboard ideal for writing out complicated concepts and the least amount of desks to move so that we could have space for wandwork. We’d get so caught up practicing spells and jinxes that we’d overstay past curfew and have to sneak all the way down to the dungeons, always narrowly avoiding Filch. We made our escapes easier by stumbling upon several hidden shortcuts and swiveling staircases that led us down to the third floor and eventually the dungeons while skipping everything in between. 

The only “fun” break we took was to watch the last Quidditch match, which was Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff for the Cup. Lily flew spectacularly and was an excellent Chaser. I couldn’t help myself from cheering her on. Rose dodged many a Bludger aimed her way by Karl on Hufflepuff’s team and scored Gryffindor the most Chaser-earned points, and in the end, James caught the Snitch, ending the game with Gryffindor over two hundred points in the lead. 

Slytherin Captain Mack Wimberly, who had been next to us in the stands, looked down sourly at the celebration on the pitch by the gold and scarlet team, no doubt trying to formulate in his mind right then and there the best way to beat them next year. When Scorpius noticed the determined glint in Mack’s eyes, he muttered to me that maybe he wouldn’t try out for the team next year after all.

* * *

O.W.L.s took place over the course of two weeks in June. Scorpius and I had revised and revised and revised until we could revise no more or else our brains would start to leak they were so full.

Even though I had managed to get Scorpius back on a normal sleep schedule and had talked him down from several other freak outs, he was near his breaking point. His occasional nightmares of Delphi and Voldemort seemed to have been temporarily replaced by dreams where he’d failed everything and was kicked out of school, and I had little choice but to hold him until he fell back asleep and then go grumpily back to my own bed upset because I didn’t have the nerve to ask if I could stay the rest of the night in his. 

On the morning of O.W.L. exams, Professor Verity explained the schedule and that the Great Hall would be used for the written exams and most of the practical components of our core classes, save for Potions, Herbology, and Astronomy. She warned us of trying to use cheating spells and homework devices and told us it’d be fruitless anyway, seeing as how Anti-Cheating Charms were applied to our exam papers in advance and highly trained examiners and proctors would be surveying everything else. I heard Alan curse to himself about wasting money on Self-Correcting Ink. 

Our first exam, Charms, was on Monday. During the practical, I surprised myself by successfully making a teacup dance, levitating a grand piano, and silencing a quartet of singing mice. The examiner, a old witch with a hump, did take off marks when she noticed my piano wasn’t suspended in midair nearly as high as she liked. Scorpius said he thought he did well, except that when asked to summon a stool from across the Great Hall, he accidentally targeted one that already had another person sitting in it. A poor Ravenclaw girl who was still finishing her written had plopped to the stone floor when the stool had gone sailing out from under her. 

Transfiguration was the next morning, and I had a hard time completely vanishing my assigned owl, who kept nipping at my wand whenever I got too close, and an even harder time transfiguring an egg into a chicken. Scorpius told me he unintentionally transfigured his egg into a peacock with elaborate white feathers which, while stunning, cost him some points. 

On Wednesday, we had Defense Against the Dark Arts. I struggled with the written, and during the practical I only managed to impress the examiner with my Shield Charm and a crafty Expelliarmus. I couldn’t produce a Patronus, much to the examiner’s disappointment. Scorpius was close to tears at the end of his practical, and he said it was because of the Boggart he had to face. I didn’t make him explain, nor did I tell him that I started tearing up myself during my written examination when I had to describe the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. 

The next day was a stifling one in the greenhouses. We each had to properly plant a Belladonna without disturbing its toxic berries and small flowers and correctly guess whether one plant was a Devil’s Snare or a Fanged Geranium. Although I was sweaty and muddy an hour later as I walked out of that exam, I still felt pretty comfortable with my performance. 

On Friday, Scorpius sat for his Arithmancy exam and bounded into the common room hours later, beaming and kissing his color-coded flashcards. I left for my Ancient Runes exam and felt similarly pleased with my translations and finishing an hour early. 

The weekend was full of revising, but thankfully not nearly as much as we’d anticipated seeing as our most difficult classes were already tested. 

Monday held Potions, which Scorpius and I both felt well prepared for, especially when the written exam called for the ingredients to Polyjuice Potion and the practical had us brew Befuddlement Draughts, which would later be blind tested on volunteering Sixth Years who would receive extra credit on their less strenuous end-of-the-year exams. 

The following morning Scorpius sat for his Muggles Studies O.W.L. on the outskirts of the village of Hogsmeade, a location that caused electronic things to go far less haywire than the Hogwarts Castle. Scorpius lamented to me later that he was allowed to use only two rolls of parchment for his essay on Muggle banking and currency, but his eyes lit up again when he explained that his practical consisted of completing some sort of virtual task on a Muggle video game system. That afternoon I went to the Grounds to complete my Care of Magical Creatures exam, where I was able to train a Niffler to bring back buried silver scattered on the edge of the Forbidden Forest and correctly recognized Crups in a pen of overly-friendly Jack Russell Terriers. The examiner pulled me aside and told me I would be given extra points for properly grooming and feeding a unicorn that was standoffish for most of the other examinees. 

On Wednesday we took History of Magic, which was easily the most boring exam and held no practical. From across the Great Hall I saw Scorpius writing like mad, the ink on his parchment undoubtedly being smeared as his left hand glided across line after line, page after page. After a stern look from the examiner, I looked back down at my own parchment and tried to regurgitate everything I knew about wars among the giants. 

Thursday was reserved for Astronomy. We took an exam on theory and star mapping in the morning, and at midnight we set up our telescopes at the top of the Astronomy Tower and identified and sketched out stars and planets on a chart while proctors looked over our shoulders every few minutes. I was very satisfied at my neat and likely precise star chart; Scorpius was very clever to have bought me that moving model of the solar system for my birthday and have me casually watch it with him several nights a week. I caught his eye further down the wall of the Tower where he stood with his own telescope, and he shot me a knowing wink. 

Friday held no exams and turned into a day of rest. Alan, Tadgh, Scorpius and I all slept in following the midnight Astronomy practical and didn’t fully wake until nearly dinner time. We headed down to the Great Hall anyway and found it full of students, some in their pajamas and most looking harried, sitting around waiting for dinner. Headmistress McGonagall made an announcement that to celebrate the completion of exams for all students, including N.E.W.T.s for the Seventh Years (I spotted James at the Gryffindor table, clearly dozing while he leaned against Fred), dinner would be served right away and with extra dessert. 

At her clap, the golden plates and goblets appeared and courses ranging from ham pie to eggplant parmesan began to appear across the tables. McGonagall also expressed her wish that we scatter among the great tables and enjoy a meal with classmates in different houses and years as well shared the same feeling that day: relief. 

Scorpius and I got up and moved to the Ravenclaw table with Poline and Louis, both of whom didn’t look nearly as tired as us since they took their O.W.L.s the year before. Surprisingly, Rose joined us minutes later and, much to my annoyance, started talking to Scorpius at once about all the second guessing she did during her Potions written exam and the mistakes she surely made on her star chart. 

I was halfway into my fried tomatoes when Alan, Tadgh, and Peter Yates of the Slytherin Quidditch team approached the table. 

“Bring back all the desserts you can carry,” Alan said. “We’re celebrating in the common room tonight.”

“Oh?” said Scorpius, turning around in his seat. “A party?”

“Right you are, Malfoy,” Tadgh said. “Term ends in one week, our Seventh Years will be embarking on new adventures, and we all just finished the most dreadful exams. What better time to let loose and take advantage of such readily-available treats?”

“And Mack and I are going to procure some Firewhisky for the occasion,” Peter said, winking. 

“Ah, potent potables!” Scorpius said, nudging me with his elbow. “I have been known to partake occasionally. Shall we ask your Gryffindor and Ravenclaw brethren to join us, Albus?”

“No, no, no,” said Alan, shaking his head and not at all caring that several Gryffindors and Ravenclaws surrounded us and were plainly listening. “Slytherins only.” 

Rose looked at him as if she couldn’t believe that someone wouldn’t invite her to a party, and Scorpius gave her a shrug that said “Well, what can you do?” 

Louis didn’t mind, saying that Ravenclaw has their own ways of celebrating. Rose shook off the non-invite as well, saying that she was sure Gryffindor would be partying into the night if James had anything to say about it. 

We sat in the Great Hall for several hours, eating until our bellies almost burst (the platters kept refilling) and playing games of Exploding Snap and Wizard’s Chess brought out by the teaching staff. Lily eventually joined us, and soon a Gryffindor versus Slytherin game of chess was taking place at the Ravenclaw table, with several Hufflepuffs taking bets on who between Rose, who was very good, and Yasmin Saffary of our Quidditch team would win. I took to whispering in Yasmin’s ear when I caught her about to make a wrong move, and Rose yelled at me to stop cheating or play her myself. Rose ended up trouncing Yasmin in the end with a well thought out cornering of Yasmin’s king with her king and a rook and thereby securing a checkmate. The Gryffindor cheers and those of the Hufflepuffs who placed bets on Rose were so loud that they sent all the pieces into a violent scuffle across the chessboard. 

When McGonagall told us that it was time for bed, Scorpius and I scooped up all the tarts, pies, and éclairs that we could reasonably carry and headed down to the dungeons. 

I had never felt such camaraderie with Slytherin as I did that evening, and I inwardly wished for more parties in the future. Peter made good on his promise to bring Firewhisky as he and Mack appeared with several bottles of the stuff shortly after we arrived. The common room filled up fast with Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Years (Portia and the other Prefects insisted that the lower years go to bed), and soon I was squashed in the middle of almost the entire Quidditch team on one of the chaises while Scorpius gave a presentation on his Varápidos, which he had proudly fetched from our wardrobe and actually allowed our housemates to touch. There was music and laughing and a toast to Craig. Everyone was in good spirits. 

“Shot of Ogden’s Old?” came a voice to my right. I turned to look and saw Horatio Russo squeezing himself into the space between me and Peter on the chaise. I moved over closer to Yasmin on my other side in order to give him more room. 

“Sure,” I said, and I threw back the small glass of Firewhisky Horatio handed to me. It burned worse than the bourbon I had at Aunt Hermione and Ron’s vow renewal, and I let out a Scorpius-like “ack!” in response. Horatio chuckled. 

“You’re cute,” he said. I wondered how many shots of Firewhisky he’d had.

“I am?” I asked, as I held out my glass to no one in particular. At once, an older Slytherin girl I didn’t know poured me another shot from an Ogden's Old Firewhisky bottle. 

“You are,” said a voice on my left. Yasmin was still sitting behind me, her dark curly hair tied up high on her head. She was smiling prettily at me. Horatio chuckled again. I took the second shot, trying to ignore the burn and instead focus on the people on either side of me and their blatant flirting. Rarely having received this kind attention, I settled back into the chaise and grinned. I could hear both Yasmin and Horatio talking to me, but my gaze, which was slowly getting foggy, was locked on Scorpius, who was in animated discussion with Mack about his broom’s Ipe wood handle. 

It was only when I felt a looming presence on my left did I turn and see Yasmin sitting so close that her nose was almost touching mine. 

“I like your freckles,” she said. 

“Er, thanks,” I said. “Got ‘em all over.”

Yasmin only nodded and leaned in closer until I could see nothing but her dark eyes and long lashes. And then she was pressing her lips firmly against mine, once and then once more before pulling back and smiling at me shyly. I gave a nervous laugh. 

“Thank you?” I didn’t really know what to say. She was very pretty, yeah, and her lips felt good the brief seconds they were touching mine, but I didn’t fancy her like _that._ Yasmin sighed and scooted a bit away from me. On her other side, Tadgh offered her a bite of treacle tart, which she gladly accepted before shooting me one last sad glance. Feeling very awkward, I purposely turned away from her, only to be met by Horatio, who appeared to be studying me. 

“Hi,” he said. 

“Hi.”

“Can I try something?” he asked. 

“Okay.”

And then he leaned in and kissed me too. His kiss was soft and the hand on my knee made me giddy, and while I did kiss him back, I couldn’t help myself from wishing, and imagining, that I was kissing someone else. We broke apart and I suddenly remembered that there were loads of other people in the common room with us. I looked around and saw that mostly everyone was still engrossed in their own conversations, enjoying the music, or having their own fun. 

The only person who seemed to be paying any mind to the two boys kissing on chaise was Scorpius, who was staring at me, mouth agape, his broomstick lying on the rug nearby as if it had been dropped. My stomach leaped uncomfortably. 

When he saw me looking back at him, he blinked and seemed to snap out of his momentary shock. He came over. 

“Albus, are you okay?” He spotted the empty glass in my hand. “Have you had too much to drink?”

“What? No, I’m just...” 

“Yeah, he’s fine, Scorpius,” said Horatio, who I had forgotten again was right next to me, even though I had just been snogging him. 

“I didn’t ask you,” Scorpius said rather snappishly. I was surprised to hear him speak to Horatio like that, since they seemed to get on okay generally. Horatio lifted his hands in mock surrender and left the couch, mumbling something about more dessert. I glared at Scorpius.

“What?” Scorpius said, catching my look. “Are you just kissing everybody now?” I wasn’t expecting him to care. Because why should he? 

“Maybe,” I said, even though the only person I wanted to be kissing was standing right in front me. “What of it? It’s only snogging.” Scorpius had crossed his arms over his chest. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but then shut it. We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before Scorpius let his arms fall to the side and sighed. He rubbed the toe of his shoe into the rug and looked down before speaking again. 

“Do you want to go to bed?”

I very much did. 

“Yes, let’s go,” I said. Scorpius seemed surprised at my answer and lightened up at my willingness to go with him, and together we picked up his discarded broom from the floor, Scorpius cradling it apologetically, and walked to our dorm. On the way, I avoided Yasmin and Horatio, both of whom were trying to catch my eye as we passed. 

We got back to our room and got ready for bed in silence. I took the shower on the right and he the left. We brushed our teeth side by side, bumping shoulders and taking turns spitting into the sink, and put on fresh pajamas. We hugged, parted, and climbed into our beds. There was a dull ache behind my eyes as I lied there, listening to Scorpius toss and turn behind his hangings. Finally, through the darkness, I heard him call out to me. 

“Albus?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my best friend, you know that, right?”

“I know.”

“You know that I care about you, right? So much.”

“I know.”

“Don’t go out with Yasmin. Or Horatio. Just… don’t, please.”

And then there was complete silence. Bated breath. I wondered, _Does he like Yasmin? Does he hate Horatio?_ Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. 

“I won’t,” I said, and I heard a contented hum. Sleep overtook me.

* * *

Scorpius was fine the next day, and the next, and the next. We didn’t talk about the party, and I didn’t much think about it until Portia pulled me aside one day after breakfast to ask me what Scorpius’s problem was. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“He’s been weird all week!” she exclaimed. “Two days ago he took ten points from Yasmin Saffary for walking too slowly in the courtyard. Points, Albus! From our own House!”

“Well, he can be a stickler for the rules sometimes—”

“And yesterday, he took twenty points from Horatio Russo because his shoe laces were untied!”

“What does it matter?” I said. “Gryffindor is like a million points ahead of everyone for the House Cup and we’re about to have the Feast and then leave.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Albus!” she cried. She was starting to get a mad look in her eye. “Tell him to lay off Slytherin, alright?” I told her I would even though I’d rather eat Stinksap then tell Scorpius how to perform his Prefect duties. 

She was probably over exaggerating anyway. 

Horatio caught up with me one day on the sloping grounds as I was on my way to visit Hagrid. I told him that I was sorry Scorpius took points from him but he shrugged it off and asked me to go out with him over the summer. That his parents had a place in Pembrokeshire. I refused and only felt slightly guilty about it. Even though I had no desire to date him, Horatio Russo was awfully handsome, a good kisser, and would definitely find someone to go out with soon. 

The End of Term Feast was good as usual, and the next morning, after the others boarded the Hogwarts Express, there was to be a celebration for Seventh Years and their families. My parents came for James, and we were all to leave for home via Portkey from Hogsmeade after the celebration and lunch. Scorpius was disappointed that I wasn’t taking the train home with him, so I asked him if he wanted to join us, but he said his father would be expecting him at the Platform. 

So I walked him out of school and said goodbye, hoping that someone, even Portia, would keep him company on the ride back to King’s Cross.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just guessed that the Ancient Runes classroom is on the sixth floor. It's never specified in the books.


	10. Chapter Ten

It was always strange to be back home, in my room and alone, during those first few days of summer. It was only mid-June, and a part of me was already itching to go back to school, something I’d rarely felt. I knew that most, if not all, of that feeling had to do with my best friend. 

He had written me as soon as he got back to Wiltshire, telling me that Hugo and his friends had joined him on the train ride home and that he hid behind Hugo when the Trolley Witch came by their compartment. My heart swelled with newfound appreciation for my cousin. 

So when I saw Hugo at my gran’s a couple weeks later, I hugged him gratefully and kissed his hair.

I was hanging onto him, asking about the train ride, while he tried to tactfully push me away. 

”You know what’s really special about you, Al?” he had asked, interrupting my shameless questioning. I shook my head. “That you really—” he finally shoved me off of him— “and I mean really, understand boundaries.”

“What are those?”

* * *

One morning I found my mum sitting at the kitchen table, coffee in hand and glossy papers scattered everywhere. 

“What are you doing?” I asked her as I poured a cup of coffee for myself. 

“Finally sorting through these photographs from your aunt and uncle’s party,” she said. “Hermione’s sent these over. They just got them a few weeks ago.” I joined her at the table and saw that there were indeed photographs capturing that day at Huntsham Court. 

“Why aren’t they moving?” I asked as I picked up one of Aunt Hermione being kissed by her parents. The subjects were beautiful, focused, yet entirely still. 

“Muggle event, remember?” she said. “The photographer was Muggle, too. They’re still quite nice, no?” 

I nodded in agreement. They were really good. I continued to help her look through them, sorting into piles the ones we liked and the ones we really loved and would probably frame. 

“I love this one, Al,” my mum said as she slid a photo over to me. It was me and Scorpius on the dance floor. He had my hands in his and was beaming at me. I was smiling back. The other people dancing around were blurred. Even with no movement, the photo made us look alive. 

“Can I have this?” I asked, not sure why my voice came out like a whisper. 

“Of course,” my mum said. I leaned back in my chair and sipped at my coffee some more while I continued to stare at the photo. I felt my mum’s eyes on me. “Do you want to make a copy to send to Scorpius?”

“You can do that?”

“I know a spell.”

I nodded eagerly and carefully gave the photo back to her, trying not to leave swirled fingerprints on the glossy finish or bend the corners. She duplicated it with a simple wave of her wand and then I had two. I downed my coffee and hurried through the last sorting of the photographs, an eye out for any more with flashes of light blond hair, and then went back to my room to send one of my copies off with my next letter. 

I propped my copy on my desk against some books, made a mental note to ask my mum for a frame, and then, after several more minutes of unabashed staring, went downstairs to find something else to do.

* * *

My dad was held up at the Ministry almost all the end of June and early July. Apparently, there was werewolf activity that needed constant monitoring and not many equipped for the job. James was busy as well; he was to start his new position with the Department of International Magical Cooperation next month and was assigned to a field office in Germany. He was spending his remaining days at home shopping, packing, and going back and forth between Bristol and Hamburg trying to find a modest flat. My mum accompanied him on his Portkey travels, not fully trusting him to get there himself without getting distracted. 

Lily wasn’t home much either. She had a friend a city away and Floo’d to her home several days a week. I was considering writing to Scorpius and asking if I could spend the rest of summer with him (my parents would’ve probably refused) but at soon as I sat down to write, the Malfoy owl was pecking at my window. 

Scorpius had written me a short letter, beginning with sincere thanks for the photograph I’d sent him and a promise that he would keep it safe and ending with the announcement that he and his dad were going to the Quidditch World Cup mid-July. The Gimbi Giant Slayers were hosting the Woollongong Warriors in Ethiopia, and Scorpius said he’d already owl-ordered a Gimbi pin and flag in support. They were set to Portkey out of the country shortly after he figured O.W.L. results would come in and stay across the world traveling for another month. I was excited for him, but knew that his letters would be infrequent and that I was in for an even lonelier last half of summer. 

 

Scorpius predicted right: a letter from school came the 16th of July, just a week before the Quidditch World Cup would begin. My dad had just finished the last round of werewolf monitoring and was actually joining me, mum, and Lily for breakfast even though he was nodding off into his plate of eggs. James had left for Hamburg a few days prior. 

I seized up, terrified, when I saw the school owl soar through the open window and drop the letter—the Hogwarts seal affixed boldly to it—in my bowl of Enchanted Unicorn Rings. I just stared at it sitting there, the edges growing soggy among the pink and purple sugared loops. Lily fished it out for me and waved it in front of my face, splattering milk onto my nose. 

“You open it,” I told her, shaking my head. “I can’t.” My mum and dad stared at Lily as she broke the familiar Hogwarts seal and pulled the letter out of the envelope. I put my head in my hands and waited through what felt like hours of silence as she read silently. 

“Al…” she whispered. I was dimly aware of how hard and loud I was tapping my foot against the floor as I nervously waited for her to tell me how I’d failed everything. 

I groaned into my hands in response.

“Al,” she said again, and I felt a hand at my back. “You did _so well._

I snapped up and stared at her. 

“What?”

She passed me the letter and laughed. 

“You have nothing to be ashamed of!”

I snatched the letter from her and quickly scanned it. And then I read it over again. And again. I checked to make sure the letter indeed had my name on it. That the envelope was addressed to me. That the marks I was seeing were not at all a mistake. That I suddenly didn’t need glasses. 

I earned all nine O.W.L.s. I passed everything. 

I looked up and saw my mum and dad looking at me expectantly. Still unable to say anything, I passed my mum the letter. Her eyes raked over it and she smiled so broadly I could see all of her teeth. 

“Four Outstandings, Albus!” she exclaimed. I heard my dad choke on his tea. Reflexively, I shot him a glare. “In Potions, Astronomy, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures... and Exceed Expectations in Herbology and Charms! And Defense!” 

“Well, I got lucky with the questions…” I mumbled. 

“Al, that’s amazing,” my dad said, putting his tea down. He got up from his chair and came to mine, and then I found myself wrapped up in his arms. When he pulled back and looked at me, his tired eyes were warm and he was smiling. 

“Only an Acceptable in History of Magic and Transfiguration, though,” I said. My dad shrugged. 

“I received a ‘D’ in History of Magic,” he said. I gaped at him. I didn’t know he’d ever failed at anything. “A ‘P’ in Astronomy, and only one ‘O’ for me. I am so, _so_ proud of you.”

And then my mum was hugging me, and Lily was going on about how much of a geek I was and that James was going to take the piss when he found out. I felt much lighter after breakfast and didn’t think my morning could get any better until my dad stopped by room as I was at my desk writing out my results to Scorpius. 

“Al?” he asked before coming inside and sitting on my bed. I finished the sentence I was working on and faced him. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m really proud of you.” 

“You said that already,” I told him, smiling so he knew I didn’t hate it.

“I know, but I want to show you how proud I am. Reward you with something. A gift, maybe? I know it’s not your birthday, but we can go shopping like we did before. I’m home more regularly now and—” 

“Driving lessons.”

“—what?”

“I want driving lessons. Can you teach me to drive our car?”

“You want… to learn to drive?”

I looked down sheepishly at my hands.

“Well, yes,” I said. “I like riding in the car, and I don’t know many other wizards who get around like that. Stupid idea, probably—”

“No!” my dad said, making me jump. He had bounded off my bed and started pacing my room. “That sounds excellent, actually. I took lessons after Hogwarts, you know. Needed to since I didn’t much like Apparating or Floo travel. But I’ve never taught anyone…”

“Not James? Or mum?”

“James has never asked. Likes his broomstick too much. And your mother, bless her, doesn’t trust cars, thinks they’re dangerous, untrustworthy inventions. Gets sick if we drive too long.”

A pause. “I’d love to teach you.”

“Great!” I said, already picturing myself swearing at other drivers, the horn blaring furiously. “When can we start?”

* * *

We began that afternoon. Dad made me at least skim our car’s manual, and then we sat in the car, me in the driver’s side, and adjusted the seat and mirrors for my height.

He let me start it and showed me what each button and knob was for. The whole time my mum looked on from outside my window, frowning. When my dad said we could pull out into the street, my mum made me open the door so she could tighten the seat belt as far as it would go. 

We only got as far as down the street that day. I hit the brakes a little too hard, and I got a little too close to the other cars parked nearby, but my dad was being incredibly patient and told me that we’d resume the next day and the next until I felt comfortable. 

 

By the end of July I was driving down the motorway (with my dad as passenger). My mum stopped nagging me after my dad told her that was very good if just a bit fast. I even got to use the horn while on a roundabout.

By August I had been driving nearly every other day. Sometimes I’d circle our neighbourhood, but once I went as far out as Severn Beach. When I wasn’t driving, I was washing the car, which took an extremely long time without magic, or reading the manual and asking my dad if anything needed servicing. 

My dad woke me up early one Friday morning by throwing the keys on my chest. 

“Get up, Al,” he said. A shirt was flung at my head. “Let’s go for a drive. A proper one.”

“Don’t you have work?” I asked groggily, pulling the shirt over my head and looking around for some shorts. 

“Owled in. C’mon!” Shoes came flying toward my face. 

We grabbed some toast from my mum, who blinked blearily back at us behind her cup of coffee. The clock in the kitchen said seven o’clock, which in our house was early if no one was expected to be anywhere. 

“Be safe!” my mum shouted from the porch as my dad and I climbed in the car. “Don’t go too fast!”

I pulled out into the street and waited for my dad to give any indication as to where I should go. He pointed east. I let him give me directions as he usually did, only this time, instead of him directing back toward home after twenty minutes of driving practice, we kept going. We drove past a village on the M32 and farther still until he had me follow the M4. I asked him where we were going, as we’d never driven this far east except we went as a family to King’s Cross. 

“You’ll see when we get there,” he said. 

“Are we going to visit Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione?” I knew they lived somewhere outside London. 

“Nope.”

We kept going. The clouds above were moving slowly but allowing some of the August sun to shine through and cause me to squint. My dad pulled a pair of sunglasses out of one of the compartments and handed them to me. 

When over a half hour had passed, I saw signs for Chippenham. Soon were driving through a small, historic town, and I still had no idea when this road trip would end. Not that I wanted it to. I just wanted to know why my dad was so chipper and eager to let me drive us several populations over. Every time I tried asking him where we were going, he’d change the subject. We talked about O.W.L.s again, werewolves, the Gimbi win at the Cup. I half wished we’d keep driving until nightfall, which surprised me. 

“Okay, Al, you’ll figure out where we’re going soon enough.”

It had been another half hour, and no longer were we driving through historic markets. We were heading southeast on a tree-lined road, passing large, sprawling fields, green hillsides, and large houses peppered on either side. Unlike home, there were no ports, no docks, no bridges, no colorful and eclectic buildings bustling with traffic. It seemed charmingly rural in comparison, yet full of lush life.

Buildings and homes began popping up more frequently as we kept on. Traffic increased slightly and I saw more people going about. I looked at every sign ahead, and, finally, although maybe there was a clue before, but I hadn’t noticed it, on several signs and markers, was the word _Wiltshire._

I quickly turned to my dad, beaming. My sunglasses slipped down my nose. 

“Really?”

“Eyes on the road, Albus.”

I turned back. Pushed my sunglasses back up on my face. 

“Really?”

“Yes.”

I gripped the wheel in excitement. We were _near Scorpius._ Practically in his backyard, I assumed. But surely his mansion wasn’t near any of these homes, I thought, looking around as we passed modest homes and drove through a retail hub. 

I glanced over at my dad and saw him reading from a piece of parchment. 

“Okay, Al, turn here… and then up here… right…. I mean, correct, not _right_... now go left at this big tree…” 

I followed his instructions diligently, keeping my eye out for any manor. So far, I could only see that we’d driven to the other side of a low hill and were currently on an isolated narrow road that seemed to have no end. 

“Pull over right here,” my dad said. Although confused because I saw nothing worthwhile to see, least of all a giant estate, I did. “Turn the car off.” 

“Are we lost?” I asked, looking around. There were no signs, no trace of any other humans. 

“Not at all. We’re here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Al, the Malfoys have wards up. Spells and enchantments to keep out _Muggle riffraff._ ” My dad got out of the car, and I followed. He looked at his parchment again and then began waving his wand as he walked up and down the narrow road. Nothing happened. 

“Maybe the wards are to keep out Potters,” I said. My dad laughed. 

“Draco knows we’re coming. He gave me explicit instructions on how to get through, though I wouldn’t put it past him to—”

I jumped. An enormous ripple seemed to move through the atmosphere, and then a grand iron-wrought gate suddenly appeared several steps away from where our car was parked on the street. A paved drive stretched beyond the gates, and I could see, across the grounds and through several tall trees, the peaks of Malfoy Manor. 

“Ah, finally,” my dad said. He nodded toward the car and we got back in. I turned sharply toward the gate and at once it opened inward. We drove through and slowly up the drive. The grounds around the manor were impressive, to say the least. Breathtaking, colorful gardens grew all around, and I spotted several fountains tucked away the deeper I looked. The grand front door of the manor was coming into view, just as my dad told me again to pull over and stop the car. 

“Are we not going in?” I asked. My dad grimaced. 

“No, not today, Albus.” I looked up at the enormity of the house Scorpius was raised in. It was truly the biggest house I had ever seen. The masonry was ancient but remarkable. What seemed like a hundred long windows covered the perfectly symmetrical facade, and tall pitched roofs with spires pierced the sky. Like Huntsham Court, this place was built in a Gothic style, but on a much larger, more opulent scale. The whole effect was rather menacing. 

Are we… not allowed?” I knew my dad and Draco didn’t get on when they were younger, but surely things weren’t as bad as they used to be, especially with all that had happened last year. 

“I haven’t been inside this place since 1998, Al, and I’m not ready to go back in.”

“I didn’t know you've been here before.”

“That’s a story for another time. Now lay on the horn and let Draco know we’re here.”

That I could do. With my eager assistance, our car gave a loud, drawn-out honk and then sputtered out a few more bleeps for good measure. Soon two blond heads with pale faces were peeking from behind the front door. I turned off the car and got out, certain that my dad would at least let us get a little closer to this enormous entrance. My dad joined me and leaned against the bonnet. 

Draco stepped out first. As usual, he looked stern. His hair was pulled back in its usual ponytail and he was dressed smartly in a long-sleeved shirt and trousers. It occurred to me that this was the first time I had seen him out of robes or other wizard-wear. He walked briskly over to us, and then held up his hand in greeting. I saw that he still wore his rings.

And then came Scorpius, bounding after him and wearing the biggest grin and shortest shorts I had ever seen on him. His arms were around me at once, and he lifted me slightly off the ground in his excitement. 

“Surprise!” he yelled in my ear. I winced and pulled back. He lifted the sunglasses off my face and tucked them into the hair at the top of my head. “Are you surprised?”

“Yes!” I said, taking him in fully. I hadn’t seen him since the beginning of June, and he’d changed significantly. For one, he had certainly grown into himself. He was still tall—taller than me and my dad—and looked fuller in the shoulders. He’d also let his hair grow out on top. His cheeks and the bridge of his nose were sunburned, and his face still sported that boyish grin. Like his dad, he was impeccably dressed. He wore a crisp t-shirt and blue shorts that stopped well above his knees. His trainers—I’d never seen Scorpius wear trainers outside of Quidditch practice—were clean and white. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. 

“Harry Potter!” Scorpius said, rounding on my dad and giving him a smile.

“Er, hello again Scorpius.”

“And the Potter automobile!” Scorpius exclaimed, admiring the car and rapping the bonnet lightly with his knuckles. 

“Shall we get going then?” Draco said. He was eyeing the car warily. He reminded me of my mum. My dad gestured toward the car. Draco looked back at him, shocked.

“We’re going… in this thing?” He looked at the car in horror and then back at my dad. “I thought we were Apparating?” 

“Why would we do that? Albus can drive us to Diagon Alley.”

“Diagon Alley?” I asked. “We’re getting our school things?”

“Don’t you want to?” my dad asked. “I thought you’d like it if we went with Scorpius—”

“No, no yes, of course.”

“But do we have to drive there, Harry?” Draco asked. He sounded nervous.

“Please, Dad, oh let’s take the car,” Scorpius chimed in. Draco looked apprehensively at the motor vehicle and then at his son, who was staring at him, hands clasped under his chin and bottom lip jutting out in a pout. Draco gave a huge sigh and turned to look at my dad again, annoyed. 

“Fine.”

Scorpius all but squealed and then hovered around the passenger side as if he wasn’t sure whether to get in. 

“You can sit in the front,” my dad told him. Scorpius didn’t need anymore prompting and quickly opened his door and plopped inside. I got in next to him and tried to harness my nerves before starting the ignition. I had never driven with anyone else but my dad. 

Draco had joined my dad in the back, and in the rear-view mirror I could see that he looked as if he was going to be sick. 

“Doing okay back there, Draco?” I asked as I maneuvered the car back toward the gate. 

“Please don’t speak to me.” 

I glanced at the mirror again and caught my dad smirking. 

We soon pulled out of the gate and got back on the road. My dad directed me again, this time toward London. We were in for a longer drive, more than two hours, but I couldn’t have been in better company. 

 

For the first time in his life, Scorpius was sitting up front, and he was taking full advantage. He was fiddling with the radio dials and adjusting the vents, asking Draco if he was comfortable and reciting anything and everything he’d ever read about vehicles from _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles._ Draco gave grunts in return and tightened his belt. After about a half hour, Draco’s initial nausea seemed to have abated as he once again found his voice. 

“Does your son have a license for this?”

I heard my dad laugh. 

“Technically, no. Not yet. But he’s very good—”

“And if you two were ever detained by Muggle law enforcement?”

“Ah, well, nothing a little Confunding couldn’t take care of, eh?”

“Unbelievable.”

“Doing better, Draco?” I asked, meeting his face in the mirror. “You’re as pale as the Bloody Baron.”

“Don’t compare me to that wimpy chain rattler,” he said. “And just keep your eyes ahead of you so we don’t die in this death contraption you call transportation.”

We traveled on, talking about what we would eat for lunch and what we needed to buy. Draco swore under his breath every time I accelerated. 

“Are we picking up Lily’s school things as well?” I asked my dad.

“Nah, your mum wants to take her next week.”

“How’s your holiday been, Albus?” Scorpius asked me. 

“Quiet,” I said. “But the driving has been nice.”

“Did you—um—go visit Horatio?”

“What? No. Why would I?”

“Who’s Horatio?” my dad asked. 

“Yeah, who’s that?” piped up Draco. 

“Um, he stopped by my compartment on the train ride home. Was looking for you and said he’d invited you over—”

“You made another friend, Al?”

“Scorpius, who is _Horatio?_

“Slytherin Seeker,” we said together. 

“Oh, a Quidditch friend, Al. Good for you.”

“He’s not my friend, Dad.” _He’s just a Sixth Year I snogged on a common room chaise, right after I was done snogging a Fourth Year girl. While I was thinking about someone else._

“You two seemed… to get along well,” Scorpius said quietly. In the mirror I could see Draco watching his son. 

“And he invited you over?”

“He’s just someone from school, Dad.” 

“Sounds like a real tosser,” Draco said. 

While my dad argued with Draco about how he possibly conclude that, I changed the subject with Scorpius, asking him about the Quidditch World Cup. Once Scorpius got to talking about the flying formations of the Gimbi Chasers, the drive seemed to go by faster. In no time, we’re going through the city.

We found parking in Chinatown and a restaurant open for an early lunch. After too many dumplings each, we walked, full and satisfied, toward the Leaky Cauldron and concealed archway into Diagon Alley. 

We went to all the usual stops—Gringotts to withdraw gold and silver (Draco almost vomited on the ride down the tracks, blaming the dumplings), Flourish and Blotts for our books (where Draco let Scorpius buy several extra that weren’t on our lists), Madam Malkin’s so we could get new school robes that didn’t stop at our ankles, the apothecary for potion supplies, and a quick pop into Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes to say hello to my uncles (“Good day, Al! Scrupius!”). 

And because he couldn’t let Harry Potter get away with paying for dumplings in a cramped Muggle eatery with Muggle money, Draco bought me and Scorpius each brilliant double-scoop ice cream cones from the renovated and re-opened Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor. 

Halfway through my dark cherry vanilla and Scorpius halfway through his honey lavender chocolate chip, we swapped cones and began discussing O.W.L.s. Scorpius said he wasn’t the least bit surprised that I made such good marks, and when I asked him how he did, he blushed and said, with just a hint of pride, that he got Os in all exams but Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense, where he scored ‘Exceeds Expectations,’ and Herbology, where he earned an ‘Acceptable.’ 

“I asked him if he’d like me to demand that the examiners re-evaluate him and re-score on that damned Herbology test, but he declined,” Draco had said to my dad. 

“I’m rubbish with plants, Albus,” Scorpius muttered. “And to be quite honest, five years with screaming shrubbery and fanged ferns was enough for me.” 

 

By late afternoon, we were ready to go home, although I wasn’t ready to leave Scorpius for the rest of the month. I relished the drive back, letting him raise and lower the windows all he wanted and pressing the gas when he told me to go faster and pretending not to hear Draco’s protests. He even wanted to wear my sunglasses, so I let him. 

We stopped for petrol and I lent Scorpius some Muggle money so he could practice paying. Draco absolutely refused to use the petrol station bathroom but allowed Scorpius to purchase a Muggle chocolate and even admitted to liking the piece he tried. 

We arrived back at the manor. I pulled into the drive and everyone got out. Dad was still staying outside, looking pointedly out toward the narrow road behind the gate, so I lingered near the car and watched Draco, arms laden with Scorpius’s school things, amble out and up to the entrance, mumbling about my driving. 

Scorpius took his sweet time saying goodbye, patting the car one more time and saying confidently to me, “I’m going to get a car!” 

“No, you aren’t!” Draco yelled as he went inside. 

Scorpius just laughed before taking off my sunglasses and handing them back to me. He then swept me up into another hug and told me he’d see me on the train ride back to school. My dad and I watched him go back into his home and then wave at us from one of the large windows on the first level. 

The drive back home was mostly silent, but not for any bad reason. As we parked outside our home, I did realize I had one more thing left to say. 

“Thanks, Dad. Really.”

“Of course, son.”


End file.
